


Thrax

by Spoon888



Series: Mission And Companion Pieces [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: And Many Similar Horrors, Canon-Typical Violence, Concerning Brotherhood, Decepticon Family Values, Gen, Implied Mpreg, Implied Relationships, M/M, Sibling Rivalry, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Mission certainly didn't recall asking for a sibling, and like hell is he going to share. He does what any self respecting Decepticon would.He removes the competition.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kanonkita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanonkita/gifts).



> Thrax- from the verb thrāssō, "to trouble, to stir."

Anxiety was an emotion foreign to Lord Megatron, High Commander of the Decepticon forces.

Today though, he was feeling it in spades.

He looked down on the dull grey cluster of armour curled into a ball beneath the protective glass of the incubation chamber. It was a sparkling- a new spark- and apparently, that was how they were supposed to look.

It was impractically small, Megatron noted, his servo hovering over the glass, too worried to touch for fear of disturbing the little one. Smaller than his servo even, his digits of a size with it's stubby fat legs.

Megatron's gaze shifted to Mission beside him, who was studying the sparkling stoically. Utterly unperturbed. Megatron wondered for a brief, bizarre moment if he was _used_ to Starscream randomly going into spark-contractions and popping out bitlets in the middle of morning refuels without any prior warning, before casting the ridiculous idea aside.

He looked between the two sparklings - _his_ sparklings- and for the first time Mission didn't seem small at all.

Everything was relative, he supposed.

"The coding matches. It's yours," Hook said, and Megatron had been so enraptured with his offspring he hadn't realised the medic had even entered the room.

"How is Starscream?" He asked, because that was what he really cared to know. He's had no doubt who had sired the new-spark. Starscream knew better then to stray from him. "I wish to see him."

"Of course, sir," Hook nodded and flicked a switch on the incubator that fogged the glass, hiding the sparkling within from view. Mission frowned, having already been struggling to see the newcomer.

"Mission, come," Megatron summoned as Hook led him into the private annex next to the main bay. His frustration with the situation must have seeped into his tone because for once Mission obeyed without question, helm down and pedes kicking at the floor, in some sort of sulk.

Megatron didn't blame him. They'd both suffered these past fourteen hours, oblivious to the goings on behind the medbay doors. Megatron had paced the grip away from the decking out in the corridor, restless for news, and Mission falling asleep in the doorway but refusing to leave, every bit as stubborn as his parents.

Starscream was awake when they entered, half reclined in the berth and covered up to the waist in insulation sheets to add a little warmth to his overtaxed systems. He didn't smile when he met Megatron's optics. He looked anxious.

"Creator," Mission broke the silence first, stiff and formal, a sure sign he felt out of his element too. "Are you well?"

Starscream withdrew from the staring contest he was having with Megatron and sighed, wings low, "Better than last time, at least."

He smiled at Mission sardonically. It pronounced the deep smudges under his optics. He looked... _exhausted_.

Megatron felt his anger deflate somewhat. Now was not the time for a screaming match. He'd rather do that when Starscream had regained his strength, and his attitude. They may as well make a battle of it.

He moved towards the berth, feeling somewhat vindicated in how Starscream sunk back nervously -at least the secretive little minx _knew_ he'd done wrong- and leant in to cup a paling cheek in his palm, thumb brushing under a bright optic.

"It's a mech." Starscream told him, probably at a loss for what else to say. A ' _sorry I didn't tell you I was carrying_ ' would have been nice to hear though.

"I will name him." Megatron rumbled. It was the least he deserved after this. _And_ after last time. He was going to name at least one of his sons. "We will discuss the rest later."

Mission moving closer to the berth caught his attention.

"And in private." He added, withdrawing.

"What is that thing?" Mission asked, for the first time commenting on the new arrival as he hoisted himself up onto the berth at Starscream's pedes. "It looks like dead Insecticon spawn."

Starscream's gaze darkened at the comparison, and Megatron's own indignity threatened to overwhelm him when he snapped. "He's your brother."

Mission looked utterly horrified.

He turned to Starscream for appeal. "My _what?!_ "

"Oh, don't start," Starscream moaned, and started thumbing at the control to release some sensor-blocking pain relief into his frame. "He's no threat to your inheritance. You're still older."

Mission's face scrunched up into an ugly little frown, "That not what I- I don't _want_ a brother!" He complained, punching the berth with all the maturity of a sparkling half his age. "I wasn't consulted on this!"

"Neither was your sire," Starscream said darkly, before Megatron could cut in.

Further arguments were postponed when Hook's knuckles rapped against the doorframe.

"All the preliminary checks are done, sir," he said, "He's ready to come out of the incubator if you'd like to hold-"

Megatron was already shouldering past the medic in the doorway. Hook had to hurry to catch up with him and deactivate the locks keeping the sparkling safe before Megatron's anticipation blew over into impatience. The glass folded back, and Megatron got his first unobstructed view of the sparking. His son.

Hook was prattling away about medical this and that's. Spark signature. Coding coloration. Processing function. Megatron simply reached in, thinking his digits too big and too blocky to possibly be practical when handling so small a thing, but it worked. The sparkling was surprisingly warm to the touch, and terrifyingly light to lift. He fit in Megatron's single servo, his tiny helm resting against the tips of Megatron's digits, impractically stubby legs uncurling and kicking against his sire's wrist.

The sparkling squirmed and made a loud noise, his face scrunching up. He looked like neither Megatron nor Starscream. Too young, perhaps? Megatron couldn't know for sure.

He felt like he couldn't know anything for sure...

Arms waved like the sparkling was threatening him with his tightly clenched little fists, and a chuckle rose up from Megatron's chest.

"A true fighter." He appreciated, "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"

Optics flickered to life, one at a time, winking, before squinting dimly. They weren't yet able to focus, but they were the trademark red of a Decepticon warrior.

"Thrax," Megatron decided, taking his newly designated son back to his creator. "I see greatness in your future, little one."

Mission was waiting for him in the doorway, scowling. Megatron brushed his free servo over his eldest's helm reassuringly. As he looked at Starscream on the berth, he was forced to concede there were worse surprises to be had. 

 

* * *

 

Hate was a strong word but it was an accurate one.

Mission had known the interloper all of a day and already he knew it had to go. He had complied a list of reasons why in the hundreds. To name just a few- It was ugly. It was small. It couldn't walk. It couldn't defend itself. Mission wasn't going to let it's uselessness be the downfall of himself or his family.

No one else was seeing these very valid faults though. Least of all his sire, who until today, he had thought was at the very least, a sensible and practical mech.

And he hadn't put the spawn down since he'd first picked it up.

"He's a seeker," his sire told him, sounding proud. He was kneeling on the floor so Mission could get a proper look.

Mission scoffed in disbelief. "I don't see any wings."

His sire nudged at one of the two tiny protruding nubs on the spawn's shoulders. "He'll upgrade into them as he ages."

"Hardly worth the bother." Mission sniffed.

His sire looked annoyed, but any attempt at baiting Megatron was quickly thwarted by the incessant noise the spawn made. It chose that very moment to squirm like a worm, face scrunching up and whining. Mission _hated_ it.

His sire made an utterly un-Decepticon like noise in an attempt to soothe the thing, lifting it up to his large chest, close to his spark. Mission's circuits burned with frustration at how easily it gained attention. How easily it was coddled.

"You're in the air barracks tonight," his sire told him when the whimpering died down. "Your creator's trine have offered to watch you."

"I don't need watching." Mission argued, wondering how this day could get any worse. "And I'm not going to the air barracks. I am staying _here_."

"I'm not asking," his sire said dangerously, somehow looking every bit as intimidating as he always did, even with that _thing_ pressed to his chest, drooling on him. "It's one night. Starscream needs to rest."

Starscream could suffer with his exhaustion for all Mission cared. It wasn't likely he'd be getting much recharge anyway with the screaming spawn in their room. Perhaps he should count himself lucky to be escaping it.

"Fine," he agreed, but to make sure his sire knew it wasn't for his benefit, he added, "They're better company than you anyway."

His sire didn't even use his sass as an excuse to have an argument. Mission was free to storm out, un-reprimanded.

His optics burned with frustration as he head his sire murmur reassuring nonsense to the spawn as he left.

 

* * *

 

The sparkling-fever had spread more widely than just his sire. Mission wondered how news had travelled through the ship so swiftly. Just hours ago he and sire had learned the cause for Starscream's very sudden, very _scream-inducing_ ailment. Mission suspected gossiping medics.

The last thing he wanted to do was indulge in the sickeningly overenthusiastic excitement spawn had brought to the ship. For Cybertron's sake, it was hardly the second coming of Primus.

"Is it a seeker?!" Was the first question out of Skywarp's mouth.

Having not seen any _real_ wings, Mission scowled, "Sire says so."

Skywarp pumped his fist and aimed a finger gun at another of the gushing seekers trying to crowd Mission for information.

"See Thunder," he said to his mate. "Told ya, seeker coding wins out every time."

Thundercracker rolled his optics, and finally seeing someone just as put out by all the excitement as he was lifted Mission's fears somewhat. Briefly.

"So you're quite the secret keeper." Thundercracker said, sounding a little miffed. "Starscream didn't want you telling anyone about your brother?"

"I didn't know," Mission shrugged, more tired than angry now. "Neither did sire." He added, because he couldn't have them thinking his creator trusted _Megatron_ over him. No way.

Thundercracker's optics flashed bright in surprise. They didn't dim down again when he turned to an equally poleaxed looking Skywarp.

"Well," breathed Skywarp, "It wouldn't be the first time he kept a sparkling a secret."

Mission hunched his shoulders awkwardly.  
  
"I said last week he was getting over sensitive," Thundercracker thought back, "Remember when I said his flight times had slowed by a whole second, and he put me on engine maintenance for a month?"

Skywarp nodded sagely, "I said he was getting fat, so..."

Mission accessed his own memory files, thinking back to any marked change in his creator. He had argued with sire more, but sire was an idiot and arguing with him was to be expected. Skywarp was right though, Starscream's frame had been denser, his usual grace lacking and replaced with uncharacteristic heavy-handedness.

Though Starscream had reacted with unexpected sentimentality when he'd been snooping through Mission's artworks and found the scribbles he had done of his parents together. They were hasty and subpar, hardly his usual quality, but Starscream had taken them and even nailed one to the wall his sire's office. Megatron hadn't yet removed it for fear of retribution.

And this sensitivity would be getting worse from here on out. Mission had heard rumour of carrier protocols.

With a shudder, he realised he needed to talk some sense into his sire about the spawn's continued residency aboard the warship.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were too busy arguing about the spawn's most likely coloration to notice him slip away.

* * *

 

Mission had every intention of bursting into his parent's room and yelling about the indignity of the cycle, and had spent the entire journey working himself up for it. But when he arrived through his own room and braced himself outside the door leading into his parent's quarters, he lost his nerve.

His sire frequently grounded him for intruding and he wasn't likely to get far into his rehearsed speech before Megatron simply scooped him up and hauled him back to the air barracks. He'd be back where he started. With the addition of being grounded.

So he'd eavesdrop instead.

He couldn't hear the spawn but for the occasional inquisitive squeak. It was distracting as Mission tried to focus on his sire's rasping voice. He was speaking in harsh, short sentences. Angry. Furious?

"-can I trust you? When lying comes so naturally? I thought we were past this-"

Mission inched closer to the door, carefully pressing his audial to the metal.

"-trust me anyway," his creator was saying, "-would have used this as an excuse to tighten the reigns, kept me locked up on this ship like some brood mare who think will bolt as soon as-

"-reputation for 'bolting'!" His sire fired back. "-half a processor to think you were again?!"

There was a long pause. Mission didn't know if they'd stopped speaking, or just lowered their voices. Seconds ticked by.

"-- what's mine." He heard his sire whisper possessively, dangerously. "--lie to me again."

Mission's spark sunk unpleasantly. He hasn't heard his sire speak to Starscream like that before, with that level of sincere threat in his voice. Not even at their worst. He drew back from the door, knowing he shouldn't have eavesdropped on this.

"Being stupid-" he heard the beginning of Starscream's next words anyway, and there was lightness to his tone. He was trying to defuse things. "-gave you a whole new son to spoil and ruin, didn't I?"

Mission moved away from the door, his jealously over the spawn conflicting with a newfound worry. He snatched up a drawing pad he'd left on his mess of a berth and headed back down to the air barracks, the half heard conversation paying around his mind, his processor filling in the gaps.

Spawn was ruining his family in more ways than one.

 

* * *

 

Despite the drama of the past few nights, there was comedic value in watching Megatron fumble his way through his second attempt at fatherhood.

Starscream often found despair in witnessing Megatron's attempts at corralling Mission, but Thrax -incapable of back-talk and unable to move on his own volition- should have been easy. What was there to a new-spark but recharging, fuelling, and screaming their little vocaliser hoarse just because they could?

Somehow, Megatron still struggled to figure it out, and still smarting over their argument, Starscream vindictively left them alone together as often as he could.

"I have a crew to supervise," Megatron argued, Thrax hanging over his arm precariously, oblivious to his sire's thunderous mood. "I am too busy to play nursemaid to _your_ sparkling."

Starscream simply smirked, secured behind a mountain of overdue reports that had piled up in brief his absence from duty. "It's only a bath, Megatron."

"He doesn't need one." Megatron thundered, obviously choosing to ignore the state their offspring was in after the last fuelling. Again, something Megatron was to blame for. No one had told the old fool sparklings didn't have the motor skills to hold their own cubes.

"I see. You're enjoying the sticky sparkling feel, are you?"

Megatron's mouth pressed tightly together.

"...How?" He asked through gritted denta.

Starscream arched a brow, suppressing a smirk, "How?"

" _How_ do I bathe him?!" Megatron barked loudly, and Thrax squeaked with laugher at his impressive volume. "You'll be typically critical of me should I do it incorrectly."

"As long as you don't drown him, you'll be fine." Starscream reassured. And would have been happy to let Megatron muddle through it alone before remembering, "and no chemical solvents."

Megatron grunted and went to walk away.

"-and check the water temperature!" Starscream called after him quickly, remembering another thing. "Oh, and-!"

"Starscream!" Megatron bellowed.

With a snarl of frustration, Starscream shoved his files away and stood, "Fine, I'm coming!"

Megatron looked perplexed, but Starscream would rather he think him a lunatic than Thrax become in any way damaged. He remembered what Mission had been like a such an age, surprisingly durable, but at times, surprisingly not.

"I'll show you," he promised, taking the disgustingly sticky sparkling from Megatron's arm. Thrax wriggled happily, looking with his bright little optics between both his parents, contemplating, before reaching a servo for Megatron, babbling nonsensically.

"You heard him," Starscream agreed, "Come on."

Megatron didn't usually consent to following orders, but it seemed he had a soft spot for Thrax. He dutifully accompanied Starscream back to their quarters, and even more dutifully put up with the copious splashing. Mission had been much the same as a new spark, Starscream was just glad it was someone else in the slash zone this time.

He watched Megatron wipe the wetness from his optics with a snort. He kept at it anyway, his determination the only thing outweighing his pride.

"Don't forget his thrusters," Starscream instructed critically.

Megatron frowned but obeyed, struggling through the task of catching a kicking thruster and keeping hold long enough to clean between all the complicated, delicate components. Finally finished, Megatron lifted Thrax out of his bath with a victorious hum.

"That's you clean for the next five minutes, at least," Megatron murmured pridefully, Thrax almost lost between his powerful arms. "Almost as beautiful as your creator."

Starscream tried not to be so easily won over by compliments. He had another week of passive aggression planned for Megatron.

"Who took the bath? You or the sparkling?" He teased the soaking mech, closing the distance and catching a drop of water from the tip of Megatron's nose.

Megatron took that as an invitation to kiss him, the only way he knew how to apologise after an argument. Starscream stepped closer and let him, even though Thrax was a wet, fidgeting bother between them.

Something pulled harshly on one of his turbine fans and Starscream jumped out of the kiss with a gasp at the sting of pain. Scowling, he lifted his servo to slap Megatron around the face, when Thrax's giggle drew his attention.

Megatron caught Thrax's grabby servo before it did further damage and tucked it close to his own chest. "Hands on, isn't he."

"Takes after you." Starscream growled resentfully.

It wasn't meant as a joke, but Megatron laughed uproariously.

He wasn't laughing two seconds later when Thrax found the raised blue button below Megatron's chest and yanked it clean off.

* * *

 

  
Mission spent a lot of time in his sire's war room. Megatron wasted long hours scowling at stockpile reports and transit schedules and Starscream often joined him so they could discuss -argue- about banal things like where to dock the _Nemesis_ and restock for fuel depending on who Starscream had managed to frag-off during his ten vorn sabbatical as a wanted traitor.

Mission was left to his own devices at the far end of the long table, and liked to fill the time drawing the expressive sneers that crossed his parent's faces as they argued.

He enjoyed it nonetheless. They were both so busy it was difficult to spend time with them both outside their frantic duties.

The downside now was that he wasn't alone in their company.

His sire had placed the spawn in front of him, with little more instruction than a casual, 'watch your brother' and a pat on the shoulder.

Like the spawn did anything worth watching.

Mission scowled at the interloper. It sucked on it's own digits and stared back, it's optics far too large for it's own squashed up face. The other seekers said it looked like Starscream, but Mission couldn't see the resemblance. His creator was beautiful. The interloper just looked like a mushed up minicon.

"-not going to let me send out seekers, then hire outside help." His creator could be heard discussing with Megatron at the other end of the room.

Megatron was sat in his usual high-backed seat, frowning down at a report about something Mission had overheard as a traitor on one of the outpost scout ships. Starscream was perched on the arm of Megatron's chair, poking at the datapad.

"I said I'm not letting you go." Meagton repeated, sounding annoyed. "You're not cleared for active duty yet."

Mission dropped his gaze back down to his drawing pad, but kept listening as he doodled Decepticon insignias. In front of him, the interloper rolled onto his front and started crawling towards him haphazardly. Mission hoped the stupid thing fell off the table.

"Because you won't clear me. I'm not sending any of my Air Force without supervision." Starscream argued back. "Which leaves you with either getting over this bizarre bout of protectiveness, or hiring from outside."

"I don't hire outside help." His sire sounded indignant.

"Oh, so what was putting that bounty on me if not outside help?"

Megatron snorted angrily, "Don't bring that up."

"Just let me take care of it," his creator said, sickly sweet, and Mission knew he'd be getting his way. "I'll com Lockdown-"

"I don't want that scrapyard anywhere near you." Megatron hissed quietly, and Mission looked up again, frowning at his sire's agitated tone.

Lockdown had been a fairly regular fixture in Mission and his creator's lives before Megatron had come into it. He was the closest they'd ever had to an ally. Mission remembered his scheduled visits. He'd often come with supplies, fuel, sometimes the odd stolen weaponry. He'd let Mission explore his ship whilst he and his creator spoke in private.

Lockdown may be an idiot, but he was trustworthy. Mission saw no reason for his sire to hate him so.

Starscream had bent towards his sire, murmuring low, touching Megatron's shoulder in a gesture that looked reassuring. Mission went to focus his audials in hopes of overhearing what was so secret that it had to be whispered.

But was quickly distracted by the sight of a pudgy servo closing around one of his coloured styluses with a squeak of victory.

"No!" Mission yelled reaching to snatch it back.

His shout made the interloper jump, and it's servo squeezed. The stylus snapped and exploded with ink, spraying the spawn and splattering Mission's drawing.

Mission punched the top of the table in fury, standing and reaching to- to-

The spawn burst into tears, face scrunched up hideously and mouth wide open. It dropped Mission's destroyed stylus, it's arms open for someone to scoop it up and coddle it.

The scrape of chairs sounded and his parents were there the next second.

Starscream snarled an impatient, "Mission!" and Megatron swooped the interloper into his arms, unbothered by the ink and the screaming and the ugly face it was pulling. Mission felt his spark wilt at the disapproval on his parents' faces.

"He broke my-" he began weakly.

"He's a sparkling," Starscream towered over him, "He doesn't know any better. You do."

Mission tore his gaze away from Starscream, anger mounting again. Anger at the destruction of his property. At being blamed for everything. At how the spawn was sucking up every byte of his sire's pride and adoration, even though Mission had had to work his aft off for it.

And Thrax who couldn't even do anything, was getting it for free?!

Mission shoved himself away from the table and stormed out of the room, ignoring his creator's call of his name.

 

* * *

 

  
Starscream watched Megatron lift Thrax overhead with a sound byte of igniting thrusters. Thrax stuck his limbs out and waved them, shrieking with excitement as he was turned and bounced like a soaring jet.

"Already so eager to fly," Megatron crooned at the little one, bringing Thrax low so the sparkling could touch his face.

Starscream tried not to smile at the ridiculous display. "If you're quite done playing, he needs to go to recharge."

Megatron huffed at the word choice, but his glower was somewhat undone by Thrax grabbing at his nose. "I'm training him in flight manoeuvres."

"None of my flight manoeuvres involve bouncing up and down shrieking." Starscream pointed out, moving to take Thrax from his sire's servos. Their sparkling babbled happily. Always so cheerful, this one.

Starscream remembered Mission mostly screaming at him when he was this age.

"Really?" Megatron purred, and followed Starscream as he went to lower Thrax into his own little walled berth. "I was sure that's all I ever saw you do."

Starscream didn't rise to it. He watched Thrax blink sleepily up at them, warm and secure among his insulation sheets. Yet another thing Mission hadn't had. Starscream had had to keep him in an open draw, too worried about rolling over and crushing him in his recharge if they shared the berth.

His spark sunk with regret.

Warmth met his back and wings as Megatron cleaved close to him, arms winding around his middle, a mouth on the back of his neck. Starscream leant into him with a sigh. Megatron's servos ran down his cockpit with an unspoken, 'come to berth'.

"I'll be there in a moment," Starscream promised tiredly, brushing him away.

Megatron pressed a kiss that could have masqueraded as a bite to his shoulder and retreated, heading back towards their berth. Starscream reached for Thrax to brush one of the undeveloped wing nubs, disguising his true reasons for lingering back.

He keyed a well remembered code into his long-distance communicator. It took a while to connect, but it was answered after one ring.

" _Well, well, well_ ," Lockdown's gravelly voice crackled over his internal com, sounding far too pleased for Starscream's liking, " _Look who's come crawling-"_

" _Oh, do shut up, Lockdown_ ," Starscream interrupted before he could gloat too much, glancing over his shoulder to check on Megatron. " _I have a mark that needs taking care of. I'm sending you the Nemesis's coordinates."_

_"Didn't think I was welcome on your floating love nest."_

_"You want the job or not?"_

_"Never turn down a chance to see you, Star."_

Starscream cringed at the nickname, old unwanted memories resurfacing.

 _"I will ensure Megatron's cooperation."_ He reassured the bounty hunter.

"Starscream...?" Megatron called.

" _I'll com you my ETA._ " Lockdown agreed, and Starscream flicked the com off.

Megatron was sat on the end of berth, watching him, a little crease of undying suspicion marring his brow. "Everything alright?"

Starscream flashed a sultry smile, wings arching high to distract Megatron from anything else. The old warlord's gaze flicked to them instead. Primus, he was so easy.

"Nothing at all." He purred, and climbed into Megatron's lap.


	2. Chapter 2

As the _Nemesis_ passed through the Albein system, they came the closest they'd had in weeks to a Cybertronian outpost. It was a neutral territory, which meant the ship wasn't going to dock planet-side. Thanks to the crew's latest addition, the spawn, a trip to restock was well desired regardless.

Mission watched his creator list off what he wanted in addition to the basic supplies, Megatron nodding patiently, although distractedly -forever preoccupied with Thrax's presence- as he prepared to leave. Without Starscream.

Mission found it surprising that his creator wasn't going to take this as an opportunity to finally escape the ship after the stuffy few weeks he'd suffered Megatron's overbearingly protective ban on him performing active duty.

The spawn sat on his creator's hip, and was reaching back to grab at Starscream's wings with his grubby, sticky digits. His creator didn't seem to mind but Mission was annoyed out of sheer principle. His own wings flicked in sympathy as he watched his creator wince and gently brush inquisitive fingers away as they began yanking on an aileron.

"I'll remember all this better if you came," Megatron was saying as he subspaced a list of the necessities. "You would rather stay behind?"

"I'd rather stay with the sparklings," said his creator, like being manhandled by the spawn was something to enjoy. Mission's optics narrowed in suspicion.

Megatron didn't look entirely convinced either, but appeared unwilling to make a fuss of it. He wasn't as suspicious of Starscream's motivations these days. Mission thought that was a mistake. His creator always had the capacity to ruin someone's expectations of him. He would know.

And though they had made up for now, Mission couldn't help but feel like his parents were just one step, one lie, away from a disaster.

"I'll be back before the night cycle," Megatron promised. He looked at Mission, "Behave yourself. Look after your brother."

Mission just sneered. He was sick of being held responsible for something so small and useless.

Soundwave stepped up behind Megatron, and they were both ready to leave. Starscream teased his sire with playful goodbyes as they waited for the flight hanger doors to open. They shared a long kiss. Mission grew ever more suspicious at the uncharacteristically public affection. It felt like an overcompensation.

Megatron dipped to farewell the spawn next, his guard stupidly lowered. It served him right when the spawn used the opportunity to jab him in the optic and laugh.

Sire didn't see the evil for what it was though. He huffed in amusement, murmuring an endearment as he straightened. Mission ducked out of the way when Megatron reached for him next, but was regretfully too slow to avoid the rough helm ruffle. He smacked his sire away but Megatron was already retreating into the transport, Soundwave following.

The doors sealed and they watched the small ship blast out of the hanger. The spawn waved sadly after it.

"Skywarp said you haven't flown with him in a while." Starscream said as the smoke from the ship's thrusters began clearing. "Maybe you should take him out and practice some manoeuvres?"

Mission knew a distraction when it was being offered to him.

"Okay..." he said carefully.

Starscream nodded with curt satisfaction, and after prising the spawn's fingers out of his turbines, turned to leave. Mission counted to ten, and then followed after his deceitful creator.

Starscream took himself and the interloper through the ship, up to the bridge. Mission snuck through the side doors and crept under the decking to avoid his notice. Shockwave was manning the bridge in Megatron's absence, usually a responsibility of the second in command, but deferred due to Starscream's forced inactivity.

Through the gaps in the decking, Mission could still see the little red dot of his sire's transport on the Nemesis's scanners, moving gradually away.

"Ah, there you are." He heard Starscream say to Shockwave, sounding far too pleased for someone greeting a hated rival. "Just the loyal Decepticon I was looking for."

Shockwave's helm swivelled towards Starscream, his frame tight with tension- until spotting the spawn in Starscream's arms.

He deflated.

"Starscream." He greeted, and inclined his helm, voice softening. "Thrax."

The spawn babbled happily at the sound of it's designation.

"There's something that requires my immediate attention." Starscream told him, and shifted Thrax from his hip. "Megatron wouldn't trust just _anyone_ with his son."

"Of course." Shockwave was visibly eager to take the spawn off Starscream's servos.

Mission was surprised the sub commander didn't spring a leak as he hurried forward to extend his one good servo and tuck the spawn into his side. Spawn appeared surprised at Shockwave's lack of face, but that quickly subsided in lieu of him trying to reach up and grab Shockwave's optic. And rip it out, likely.

"It is the duty of every Decepticon to safeguard the future of our case." Shockwave said, ignoring the curious fingers.

Mission scowled. He was the future. Not stupid Spawn.

"He needs refuelling," Starscream led him. "I'm sure you can manage that, can't you?"

Shockwave didn't take kindly to any challenge to his competency. From below the decking, Mission saw his chest inflate. "I am more than adept at caring for a new-spark."

Mission watched him leave with the spawn, his helm held high, and the irritating little pest he carried calling out a nonsensical goodbye over Shockwave's shoulder at Starscream. Carrier protocols still on override, Starscream waved indulgently at it until they'd both rounded the corner.

Urgh.

Once he thought he was alone, his creator began behaving a little more Starscream-like. Mission watched him look over both shoulders before moving to the Nemesis's scanner.

"You're clear." Starscream said to the empty bridge, and it wasn't until com static crackled that Mission realised he was actually speaking to someone.

That someone was a voice Mission recognised well.

" _Unshielding now._ " It was unmistakably Lockdown. Mission heard the ping of a ship appearing on the scanner. " _Yer got the coordinates for the mark?"_

"Yes. Dock in the hanger." Starscream said, and the com crackle cut off.

Mission watched him leave, presumably for the hanger, wondering why Starscream had gone though the trouble of keeping Lockdown's visit secret. Even from him. Perhaps it was personal.

Mission briefly wondered if Lockdown would be capable of handling the Thrax Problem for him. But such a job might contradict with the hunter's own sense of self preservation. Lockdown was unlikely to accept the risk of displeasing both Megatron _and_ Starscream.

Still, he supposed the bounty hunter's presence could be useful in other ways...

 

* * *

 

Lockdown sauntered off his ship. His smile asymmetrical, smug, and toothy. He winked when he was halfway down the ramp. Starscream repressed the urge to shudder, choosing to simply grimace instead.

"Lookin' good, Star." Lockdown looked him up and down appreciatively. "Got rid of the old mech, huh?"

"Megatron won't be gone for long, Lockdown." Starscream said, hoping to deter any come ons. He removed the information from his subspace and extended it to the hunter. "A list of potential traitors. Stick around long enough to work out which one it is, or kill them all. I don't care. You'll be paid the same."

"So cold, Star," Lockdown lifted his hook as though about to brush it over Starscream's cheek. Starscream flinched back, scowling.

"You want me to ram that thing up your exhaust?" He threatened, "Try that again and I will."

The old hunter laughed uproariously. "Pit, I've missed yer. Deep space makes fer some lonely nights now I don't have you to call on."

Starscream didn't remember those not-so-lonely nights quite as fondly. He tossed a credit chip at Lockdown. "There's your down payment. Now get out of here."

Lockdown lifted the chip and squinted at the amount, then shrugged acceptingly. "Not jus' yet. Gotta refuel. I'm dropping a load out in the Valeria system first. Saint Synth', gambling moon. You should come. Be my lucky charm..."

"You won't find me quite so lucky these days," Starscream muttered, turning down the generous offer.

"Jus' cashing in a couple favours," Lockdown leered, and brushed past Starscream to enter the ship. "One drink, Star. Fer old times sake."

Starscream could only be thankful that the lower levels were empty between shift changes, and that Soundwave was off ship with Megatron -the overbearing lieutenant could sense out scum like Lockdown a whole ship length away. If he wanted to keep this visit incognito, he'd need to get Lockdown off soon.

He followed the hunter, snapping at him to get out of the main corridor. One drink, then he was off.

And maybe he could even slip some accelerant into Lockdown's cube that would have him purging from here to the Andromeda system? That'd make for some satisfying payback.

 

* * *

 

Shockwave was in the mess with the spawn, attempting to fuel him as per Starscream's request. Mission watched him struggle to both hold the sparkling in place and steady the cube at the same time. His claw was pinched over the spawn's scruff bar in an effort to keep it from crawling to escape, which Spawn didn't seem to approve of at all. It's tiny hands batted the cube away angrily as it shrieked a nonsensical protest.

For the first time Mission could see his resemblance to Starscream.

"Shockwave." He announced himself as he came to the table.

Shockwave's optic was dim with despair. "Your brother is uncooperative."

"Sire says he takes after my creator." Mission explained, squashing a little rise of jealously at the comparison, regardless of it's backhanded origins.

Shockwave nodded in firm agreement, but in his lapse of concentration the spawn managed to knock the cube out of his servo and spill it across the table. Shockwave stared at the mess silently.

"I'll take him." Mission offered, putting on his most earnest expression.

Shockwave's heavy gaze turned on him. " _I_ have been entrusted with his care."

"My creator wants me to spend some... _quality time_ with him."

Shockwave either didn't trust him, or simply wanted to live out the glory of nurturing his Lord Megatron's offspring for at least a little longer. "With you."

"He's my brother." Mission said, his glossa felt like lead on the revolting word. "Of course he does."

Thanks to the spawn's abysmal behaviour, Shockwave didn't look ready to argue over his trustworthiness anyway. Mission wondered how well broadcasted his dislike of the interloper was around the ship. Thundercracker and Skywarp knew of his hate, they'd listened to a fair few rants already.

"Very well." Shockwave finally agreed, sounding somewhat relieved.

The spawn was lifted by the scruff -something it contested loudly- and dangled down to Mission's level. Mission took it, and though still horrendously small, the spawn had grown. It was heavier than the last (first and only) time Megatron had nudged it into Mission's arms to hold.

He shifted it against his chest, trying not to sneer at the grabby fingers poised and ready to tug on his throat cabling in front of Shockwave.

"The bond of brotherhood is something to be valued." Shockwave said, before Mission could escape. "You are very lucky."

Mission snorted when he was out of audial range. He was about to become a whole lot luckier.

 

* * *

 

Mission tucked himself and the interloper into a dark corner, listening to Lockdown's bawdy laugh from somewhere up the corridor. He could hear his creator's sharp inflection, reproachful, impatient, unhappy, and knew he didn't have a lot of time before Starscream's patience ran out and he kicked Lockdown off the ship.

Mission remembered a lot of tense evenings when their freighter had been docked with Lockdown's ship. Starscream would speak with Lockdown at length in one of the back rooms, leaving Mission on the bridge. He always came back tense and easily angered. The one time Mission had tried to eavesdrop, Starscream had caught him and locked him in the storage hull until it had been time to leave.

Another happy childhood memory.

Mission shifted his hold on the spawn, hushing it impatiently when it made an inquisitive noise. This time, it wasn't going to be _him_ locked in the hull.

The hanger was empty of mechs. Lockdown's ship sat obnoxiously in it's centre, a fuelling hose still attached to it's port. The ramp was down so it'd be easy to get on board and Mission was familiar enough with the layout to find his way to the storage hull.

The spawn squealed happily as Mission carried it up, it's helm swivelling this way and that as it tried to take in Lockdown's interior decor. Mission couldn't help but agree with his interest, pausing to take in a huge quadruple barrelled arm cannon mounted on the bulkhead, almost as big as his sire's fusion cannon.

The spawn cooed and reached for it.

"Not now," Mission hissed, and held the spawn away from it. "We'll find somewhere quiet for you."

He took the spawn through the ship and down into the storage hull. It was stacked full of crates. Lockdown must have been on his way to making a drop off. Mission lowered the spawn to the floor and cracked open the first one.

Grenades. No good. The last thing he needed was the spawn blowing himself and the ship up before Lockdown flew out the hanger. He wanted the interloper gone, not necessarily dead.

He opened a few more crates. More weapons, and bombs, and weird looking equipment. None of them save to shove a sparkling into.

The spawn made a loud noise to gain his attention. It echoed around the hull.

"Don't yell at me!" Mission snapped.

Spawn kicked his thrusters, face scrunched up furiously, and did it again.

Mission moved to shut him up, forcibly if necessary, when he spotted another crate. It was smaller and unlike the others, wasn't airtight and blast proof. Mission unlatched it and flipped the lid.

Datachips, files, and what looked like star maps. By far the safest option yet.

Mission lifted the spawn under the arms and lowered him into the crate. It flapped it's arms and kicked datachips flying. Mission hissed and gathered them up again, tossing them back into the crate with the interloper.

"Don't eat them." Mission warned as the spawn stuck one in his mouth and started chewing on it. Mission reached for the lid to close it in, but paused.

The sparkling looked at up him, optics huge and unblinking. It waved it's arm, as though saying goodbye.

He _was_ very small and stupid. Mission's spark twisted, anger evaporating at the display of clueless innocence. Maybe he shouldn't-

A bang sounded somewhere in the ship. Engines rumbled.

Lockdown was back.

"Oh no," Mission whispered.

He dived back into the crate and lifted his brother out. Thrax made a small, frightened noise, his digits curling around the edges of Mission's armour tightly.

"Shh," Mission hushed him, darting around the crates in his rush to get out of the hull, "Don't be such a coward, we'll just sneak out the-"

The rumble of engines grew. Mission had barely made it out of the storage hull when the ship tilted, turning sharply. Mission held the delicate frame of his brother tightly and grabbed at the wall as he heard the whine of a hyperdrive warming up.

"Slag-" Mission hissed and scrambled for a safety bar, clinging to it and bracing his brother between his chest and the wall.

The entire ship lurched forward violently. He heard Thrax cry out and felt his arm yank in it's socket as he lost his grip and fell back, his helm slamming against the corner of one of the heavy durasteel crates.

 

* * *

 

Good riddance, Starscream thought as Lockdown's ship blasted out of the hanger. He regretted keeping this from Megatron now. He would have enjoyed watching the old hunter squirm at the sight of the infamous fusion cannon.

He should probably make an effort to round up his offspring though. He needed something to calm himself down again after putting up with Lockdown.

He hailed Skywarp's com, "Where are you?"

" _Rec_." Came the answer.

Starscream made his way up, thinking of ways he could get his stubborn eldest to behave more amicably around his younger sibling. He knew deep down he only had himself to blame. He'd raised Mission to have a certain... selfish outlook on life.

Those had been harsher times. He hadn't even been sure then that he'd live to see Mission into mechhood. He had needed to know his sparkling would survive without him.

The recreation room was fairly busy. A large group of Decepticons were gathered around a circular table, watching what appeared to be a card game. Skywarp was playing, pouting at Swindle as he raised in the pot. Starscream knew without having to look that Skywarp was bluffing. He _always_ bluffed. He was the worst card player in the galaxy.

"Skywarp," he shouldered past the hollering Decepticons, looking for Mission's short stature amongst them, annoyed that his trine mate would influence his son with such trivial things as how to gamble.

"Oh, hey Screamer." Skywarp glanced at his cards thoughtfully and tossed in another credit chip.

"You're full of slag, Warp!" Motormaster laughed, "I'm calling it-"

"Skywarp!" Starscream snapped impatiently, "Where's Mission?"

Skywarp shrugged, "Haven't seen him, Screamer. I'm tryna concentrate-"

Starscream exhaled heavily. Typical. "Tell him I'm looking for him."

His trine mate waved him off, placing his card hand down to the uproarious delight of the audience. Starscream heard his losing cry of despair as he left the room.

He hailed Shockwave this time, at least _Thrax_ couldn't lie about his whereabouts yet.

"What's your location?"

Shockwave didn't answer straight away, which Starscream found a little irritating. When he did-

" _Classified_."

Starscream wanted to hit something. Why was everyone being so unaccommodating today.

"Don't be an idiot, Shockwave." He snarled. "I want my sparkling back. You can't keep him."

He expected a prompt response to his harsh tone, but Shockwave took even longer to reply this time.

" _Mission collected Thrax under your orders."_

Starscream's stride slowed. Something nagged at him.

Mission lied all the time. It was nothing. This would be nothing. Perhaps he just wanted to spend time with his little brother. That was a good thing. His sparklings were finally starting to get along.

But he wasn't naive enough to actually believe that.

He hailed Mission's com, attaching a high priority alert, something Mission would know never to ignore, no matter what mood he was in, or how bad an argument they'd had.

There was no answer.

He increased his pace, changing direction from his quarters and heading back towards the bridge. He raised Thundercracker next. He hadn't seen either sparkling. Then Hook. They weren't in the medbay. Ramjet even. Nothing.

His spark was shrinking with every failed attempt to get ahold of his sparklings. The logical part of his processor said he was panicking. That he was being stupid. Mission wouldn't run away. Not again. Not from him. Not with his defenceless brother.

He reached the bridge and Thundercracker came running in after him, out of breath.

"You found them?"

Starscream kept his helm low, accessing the security terminal.

"No." He said stiffly,

"They can't have left the Nemesis." Thundercracker muttered, still relatively calm. He joined Starscream at the monitor. "The log hasn't registered anything leaving the ship after Megatron."

It wouldn't have. Starscream had deactivated the security log when Lockdown had arrived, not wanting Megatron to have seen the unscheduled docking on record and questioned it.

"When'd you last see him?" Thundercracker continued.

Starscream had already found the hanger security footage and set it to Megatron's departure time. And there was Mission, on screen besides him.

"Here." He said, claw tapping the screen. He began to skim through the footage.

Lockdown's ship appeared in the hanger. Starscream shrunk under Thundercracker's invisible disapproval, "What's-?!"

"It doesn't matter." Starscream snapped, "I offered him a contract-"

"Pause it." Thundercracker interrupted, servo flying out to jab the button. Starscream looked at the screen, watched the footage play back panel by panel. Mission appeared at the base of Lockdown's ship. In his arms... was Thrax.

Starscream's tanks rolled as he watched both sparklings enter the ship. Moments passed, and then so did Lockdown. The ramp retracted. The ship sealed. The thrusters ignited.

Thundercracker cursed as the ship on the screen took off.

"We have to get them back." Starscream murmured, watching the screen blankly, "Before Megatron finds out."

Looking as sick as he felt, Thundercracker nodded in agreement.

 

* * *

 

Tiny hands patted his cheek clumsily. Something cried fretfully.

Mission flickered his optics online.

Thrax's flushed face hovered over him, tears dribbling down his fat cheeks. Wet optics brightened with hope when he realised his brother had woken up. He babbled at Mission, pointing randomly around the dark storage hull.

"Yeah, I know," Mission hushed him, wincing as he lifted his helm, processor swimming. He'd screwed up. He'd screwed up badly. "Calm down."

His brother whimpered and grabbed his pedes, his wings nubs flattening against his back.

"How long was I out?"

His brother stared at him vacantly.

"Primus, you're useless." Mission groused, climbing to his pedes. Thrax lifted his arms, wanting to be carried, but he was too heavy for Mission to lug around everywhere. "Wait."

Thrax started to hiccup, a sure sign he was about to start crying again. Repressing a snarl, Mission dropped to his knees in front of him, servos hovering, unsure. Thrax sniffed wetly.

Mission patted him on the helm awkwardly, like his sire sometimes did to him.

"I'm going to get us home." Mission said, not even sure Thrax could understand him. "I promise."

Thrax's little helm nodded in the affirmative. He sat patiently and sucked on his digits as Mission searched for a viewport, some way of figuring out where they were. He climbed atop a stack of crates to reach one towards the ceiling, and was just tall enough to peak though.

The stars were streaks beyond the glass, turning the darkness of space into a purple blur.

He hopped down carefully, scratching his chin in thought as he considered their options.

He could make himself known to Lockdown. The hunter's supposed friendship with Starscream hadn't helped Mission before, but his fear of Megatron could be a greater motivator. Of course, that meant his parents would discover that he had tried to palm his little brother off on a bounty hunter. Sire would be furious to learn he'd put Thrax in harms way. He didn't want to think about his creator's reaction...

No. He was fully capable of finding his own way back to the _Nemesis_ without Lockdown's help or his parent's knowledge. He may be able to salvage this situation yet- without it resulting in Megatron grounding him until the _Nemesis_ rusted.

He just needed to wait until they were out of hyperspace, had landed somewhere, and avoiding Lockdown's notice, sneak off the ship and fly home.

"Here," Mission hoisted his brother up again. Thrax fussed as Mission carried him back to the datachip crate he had chosen earlier. "Just be quiet. I'll get you out when it's safe."

Thrax wasn't particularly worried about being stuffed in the crate. He was more interested in how many colourful datachips he could stuff into his mouth. It would be a miracle if he didn't eat any of them. Starscream might be able to figure out what had happened if Thrax purged and a whole libraries worth of intel came up.

Mission grimaced as he removed a few of the sodden chips. "Stop eating them."

Thrax made an angry noise and fisted more anyway, shoving them into his face.

"Idiot." Mission told him.

He closed the lid over Thrax and waited a few moments in case there were any screaming protests. There weren't. Thrax stayed quiet. 

Mission climbed into another crate containing grenades. Unlike his brother, he could trust himself not to set them off. He swung the lid shut on himself and focused on the techniques Megatron had taught him for dealing with his claustrophobia. He may be a seeker, but his sire had been a miner, and Megatron seemed fairly convinced the two could balance each other out.

Bringing forth memory files of Megatron's rich voice and softened gaze was as soothing as any deep breathing exercises anyway.

If Thrax could cope, so would he.

 

* * *

 

"You know what to do?"

Skywarp nodded very seriously at Thundercracker. "Delay. Distract. Deter."

"Good," Thundercracker breathed. "With any luck we'll be back with them before Megatron returns."

"Is Screamer okay?"

Thundercracker glanced at their trine mate. Starscream was obviously _trying_ to appear calm. He was twitching with impatience, his claws curled readily. "He's just a little worried."

"Lockdown's not gonna hurt them though." Skywarp said hopefully, "Is he? He probably doesn't even know they're on board. Mission seemed to have gotten to know him pretty well, trusted him...?"

"I don't know, Warp." Thundercracker felt tense himself. Losing Mission was bad enough. They'd all been down that road before and it hadn't been pleasant. But Thrax?

He couldn't imagine losing something so small.

Which was why Megatron _could not know_.

"Why'd he run away?" Skywarp whispered fretfully, twisting his digits together, "I thought he liked it here. Liked us."

"We'll be able to learn why when we find them." Thundercracker tried to reassure himself as much as Skywarp.

"Please hurry back," Skywarp begged. "I don't wanna be here if Megatron finds out. He'll hit the self destruct or something."

"Thundercracker." Starscream snapped, "Lets go."

"Where?" Skywarp asked before his mate could cram himself into the airlock alongside Starscream.

"Gambling moon. Starscream remembers Lockdown mentioning Saint Synthia."

Skywarp wrinkled his olfactory. " _Nice_. Good luck."

Thundercracker pulled Skywarp in, clasping the back of his neck and pressing their foreheads together briefly. Skywarp shuttered his optics, and their goodbye went unspoken.

"It's not too long a flight." Thundercracker released him and stepped back. "If Megatron does beat us back here, try and keep him out of the loop. Buy us some time-"

"And don't mention Lockdown." Starscream added, poking his helm out of the airlock.

"I'll take care of it," Skywarp gave them a thumbs up.

The airlock sealed shut and began to pressurise. Thundercracker side-eyed his trine leader, and thought he might as well distract him from the stress of missing sparklings.

"You gonna tell me about this Lockdown situation?"

"It's a long story." Starscream frowned.

"We've got time." Thundercracker said firmly, just before the airlock released and they were sucked out into the vacuum of space. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Lockdown didn't make a habit of trading with Autobots. It was dangerous work. At least the Cons he could trust to be violent bad tempered backstabbers. He never knew what he was gonna get with an Autobot.

He made exceptions though. For his favourites.

Prowl was perhaps the stiffness, most protocol ridden Autobot to have ever joined the cause, but he was practical. And Lockdown could appreciate that sometimes practicality came before vaunted Autobot morals.

"Hey, there officer," Lockdown greeted the fickle Autobot warmly when his ship docked with Prowl's. "Ya Prime know you're in this sector?"

"Do you have the information?" Prowl was business as usual. A real shame. Lockdown would really have liked to wriggle past those armoured walls today. He needed it after striking out with Starscream.

"You got the credits?"

Prowl removed the credit chips from his subspace and tossed them across the docking bridge. Lockdown caught them easily, weighing them in the palm of his servo.

"It's all there."

"Oh, I know officer," Lockdown grinned, "Was just hoping you'd come up short. Coulda squeezed you for a little more than just credits..."

"You're deplorable." Prowl said without much emotion. Lockdown knew he didn't mean it. He never took his business elsewhere. "The information. Now."

"Alrigh' hold ya horsepower. I'm going," he limped towards the storage hull. After a pause, he heard Prowl follow. "Heard ya got pretty close with that little spy?"

"I am not discussing Jazz with you." Prowl growled. "My personal life is none of your concern."

Lockdown laughed, opening the door to the hull. "I'm yer friend, ain't I? Gotta right to be concerned."

Prowl glowered, and pointed. "Is that it?"

Lockdown nodded at the crate in question. "That's the one. Wan' me to carry it for ya?"

"I can handle it myself, thank you." Prowl bent at the waist to retrieve the crate. Lockdown stepped back and tilted his helm, taking an image capture of the sight. When Prowl straightened his mouth was set in a thin line, like he knew what Lockdown had done.

"I'll be taking my leave."

Lockdown held out an arm, "After you, officer."

Prowl marched past him in a huff, and Lockdown followed, rather enjoying the sight of him angrily stalking away.

 

* * *

 

The supply run went exceedingly well. Megatron helped Soundwave load the transport with their haul, enough fuel and energon to last another few months out among the stars, and plenty of spare parts and armour to recover what had been lost with Thrax's arrival.

He was eager to return to the _Nemesis_ , even after such short hours away. He was sure Thrax's vocaliser was beginning to sort the gibberish into words -despite Starscream's scoffs that he was delusional- and he didn't want to miss a moment of it.

As fulfilling as it was to watch his youngest son grow, it was stemmed with regret at how much he was beginning to realise he missed with Mission. His first vocalisations. First steps. His wings growing in.

His first flight...

He'd let Starscream have Thrax to himself a while longer. Mission's ever-present scowl had been deepening lately, and despite the fawning adoration of Starscream's entire airforce, it was easy to assume he was feeling neglected.

He had a full enough schedule before Thrax's arrival, but that didn't mean Mission wasn't old enough to accompany him with some of his duties. He had a routine engine inspection coming up, and one of Mission's favourite pastimes was mechanics. He'd enjoy that.

Busy as he was, Soundwave understood his desire for haste. They were blasting off towards the _Nemesis_ long before the duty shift was due to change for the evening, well ahead of schedule.

But when the _Nemesis_ loomed in the viewport, Soundwave fidgeted.

Odd. Soundwave didn't fidget.

"What is it?" He asked, sitting straighter. The _Nemesis's_ shield was still up and un-breached. There was no sign of an attack-

"Soundwave; senses hysteria."   
  
"Oh?"

"Mass hysteria" he elaborated.

Megatron rolled his optics, he leaves for _one day_...

He sighed, knowing from experience that if anything had happened to his warship in his absence, his eldest son would be to blame.

"Well, let's hope they're all still in one piece."

Their transport swept into the flight hanger. Everything looked in full working order. As Megatron stepped down off the ramp his olfactory checked for chemicals and smoke, but the air was as clear as ever. He couldn't hear anyone screaming 'fire!'

Soundwave hailed for a crew to come to the hanger and help unload. Something about him was still unusual though. He was looking around, as if searching for a problem Megatron couldn't see.

"For pities sake, Soundwave." Megatron snapped, "What is it?!"

Soundwave hadn't chance to answer. The entrance to the hanger opened to reveal Skywarp and Rumble. They took three steps into the hanger before Skywarp looked up, saw them, and shrieked like he thought Megatron was the Unmaker himself.

Rumble's own scream seemed more in response to Skywarp's than actual surprise at seeing them.

"Report." Soundwave intoned loudly, unfazed by the screaming as he stared down his cassette.

Rumble looked nothing short of terrified. He looked at Skywarp for help, who only pulled as equally a panicked face.

"Eh, you're... back early boss?" Rumble began, still glancing at Skywarp.

Skywarp nodded encouragingly, he looked to be fiddling with his wrist com behind his back, his helm bowed towards Rumble as he muttered. " _Stall them, stall them..."_

"Stall?" Megatron thundered, wondering what sort of plot this was. Skywarp's involvement meant Starscream was to blame, and Megatron had far less patience when it came to him than he did his unruly son.

"What has happened, Skywarp?"

"Happened?" Skywarp squeaked, "Nothing's happened. Why would you think something had happened? We're all just- everything's fine. It's fine. Right Rumble?"

"Uhhhhhh..."

"Enough of this," Megatron sliced a servo through the air. "Where is Starscream?"

Skywarp stared in horrified silence.

"He is gone." Soundwave announced, staring at Rumble.

Rumble cringed.

"Gone?!" Megatron's felt a sharp stab of pain right in the spark at the words. At the memory. "Gone where?"

"He uh, he's-" Skywarp stammered.

"He has left the _Nemesis_ , and the system." Soundwave read from Rumble again.

Skywarp hissed and went to kick the cassette.

"I can't help it!" Rumble cried.

"Left...? Why!?" Megatron demanded. His fuel pumps kicked up a couple gears. He stemmed the rising sense of panic, but the old fear was rising. Starscream had left. Starscream had left _him_.

Again.

"Where are my sparklings?" He asked weakly, dreading the answer.

"No!" Skywarp waved his servos. "It's not like that. Don't- don't panic-"

"Skywarp...?" Megatron stared, because he still hadn't answered.

Skywarp paused, cringing. Rumble was staring at the floor. Megatron turned to Soundwave, helplessly, and his lieutenant's visor dimmed.

Fear evaporated and his temper rose like a live thing. His fusion cannon whooped online to full charge. His subordinates ducked out of instinct.

" **Where are they!?** "

 

* * *

 

Mission's helm still ached from where he'd banged it. In the darkness, the sharp shooting pain allowed his recovery override to knock him into a brief self repair stasis. He blinked his optics back online, fighting away the desire to fall back into recharge.

He had little to take his processor off the slow press of the packing crate's sides, closing in. He repressed the urge to fidget, because reminding his wings that they were surrounded would do little to help. He couldn't help but think back to the last time he'd been shoved in a box-

- _No_. He closed those memory files away and hid them deep. He needed to stop dwelling on infantile fears. He wasn't a sparkling anymore.

He concentrated on the hum of the ship's hyperdrive, a low constant thrum that reminded him of the freighter he and Starscream once lived on.

He wondered if Thrax was alright? If his brother was old enough to operate a comlink then he'd have someone to talk to.

Talk at.

He wished Thrax would hurry up and grow already.

The hyperdrive changed in pitch. It was powering down. The smooth glide of travelling at space-folding speeds slowly transmuted in the light judder of normal flight. Mission felt the weaponry he was lying on shift under him. He cringed, but nothing decided to blow him up.

He waited, listening carefully as the ship appeared to slow. There was no loud violent reentry, so wherever they were didn't have an atmosphere. A spaceport, perhaps?

The ship landed with a shake, hydraulics hissing.

Mission pushed open the lid just an inch or so, looking left and right, before rising to stick his helm out. There was no sign of Lockdown. He couldn't hear the old hunter pottering around deeper in the ship either. Carefully he let the hinged lid hang to the side and clambered out, kicking a couple of the blasters as he did.

Now to get Thrax.

He'd thought the packing crate he'd left his brother in was beside the storage hull door. But it wasn't. Maybe he had-

He looked around, frowning, then clambered on top of a larger crate for a better view and- it wasn't a _big_ hull by any means-

It wasn't there.

Mission jumped down and plunged his fist into the crate he'd hidden in, taking the most powerful looking blaster he could find. He checked the charge, full, and kept it in his servo.

The landing ramp was down, which meant Lockdown was still in the vicinity, and likely still had his brother.

Fuel pump picking up speed, he darted down the ramp into the most colourful shipyard he'd ever seen in his life. Neon lights, flashing advertisements, ringing bells. A party personified. He squinted at the brightness, shielding his optics with the blaster as he searched-

"Yer gotta be kiddin' me," a gruffly resigned Lockdown said behind him.

Mission did a panicked pirouette. Safety off. Muzzle aimed high.

It didn't do much to intimidate Lockdown. The hunter already had his own personal armoury focused on Mission. Seemed Lockdown didn't think he was so harmless anymore.

"What in the Pit are you doing 'ere, kid!" He growled, genuinely angry. It was satisfying to see in place of his usual arrogance. "This entrapment?! If Screamer think's I'm stupid enough to get caught with his kid, jus' to give yer old bastard of a sire an excuse to finally off me-!"

"Starscream doesn't know I'm here." Mission interrupted before Lockdown could try apprehending him in an attempt to save himself from potential repercussion.

"Like slag he don't know-!"

"Listen!" Mission brandished the blaster at him, knowing it was small and far from intimidating but- "There was another crate. I- I hid something of value in it. I need to get it back. Then we can pretend this never happened."

Lockdown stroked his chin with his hook, looking interested now. Unsurprising that only his greed could outweigh his sense of self-preservation. "Valuable, huh?"

Mission clenched his denta. "To my sire, it's worth is incalculable."

"So he'd be willin' t' pay a far fee to get it back..." Lockdown grinned toothily. "Well, in that case I'd be more n' happy to escort you and yer package back to the Cons. You tell me which crate it was," he lifted his hook, and it glinted menacingly in the neon lights. "And I'll crack it open fer ya."

Mission scowled- like he didn't know how to open a crate.

He lowered his blaster, seeing no reason threaten force if Lockdown was willing to cooperate. "I can't find it. It was filled with intel. The small crate beside the hull entrance."

Lockdown's slag-eating grin slipped off his face. He scratched at the back of his helm with his hook, "Ah, Pit. Sorry kid, that one's long gone-"

"Gone?" Fear threatened to overwhelm Mission, he raised the blaster again, ignoring how it shook. "No, it can't-!"

"Was intel I stole fer some 'Bots. Already handed it over. Already bin' paid," Lockdown shrugged like that was the end of that. "Chances are It's already on it's way to their Command ship. Ain't no way I can get it back now-"

"We have to!" Mission snarled, panic rising at the mention of Autobots. "We have to get it back!"

"We?" Lockdown sneered. "This ain't my problem, squirt."

"It will be," Mission said darkly. He held the weapon steady. "What I left in that crate wasn't some precious trinket, you idiot! It was my brother!"

Lockdown's sneer soon disappeared. Mission didn't think he'd ever seen such a look of genuine fear on the bounty hunter's face before.

"Brother...?" Lockdown mumbled vacantly.

"I'll be sure to tell my sire just who it was that placed his youngest son in Autobot servos." Mission twisted the knife. "So he'll know _who_ to blame."

He was getting his brother back. Whether he had to get Lockdown killed to do it or not.

 

* * *

 

  
"Do I wanna know where this came from?" Jazz drawled, leaning against the suspect packing crate, a servo on his hip.

Prowl kept his composure, "I would rather leave you with the option of pleading ignorance."

Jazz whistled low; that meant it was _really_ bad. Not that he would ever hold that against Prowl. The thing about war and spy-work was there weren't much room for morality.

Which was exactly why Prime operated on a need to know basis regarding it. Jazz was sure some of the mission reports that he oh so accidentally flung into the Ark's garbage disposal would send the Prime into a stasis if he ever saw them.

Jazz rubbed his servos together eagerly and crouched to unlatch the lid, "I have to say man, this ain't the most conventional gift you've ever given me."

"It is practical." Prowl straightened, and he looked proud, like the idea of giving Jazz normal things like energon goodies, or a cool gadget just hadn't been good enough.

Jazz smiled to himself.

"You did good," he agreed, and swung the lid open.

Two optics blinked up at him silently.

Jazz blinked back.

"...Is it not satisfactory?" Prowl asked. His servos were clasped behind his back. He was hiding a slight fidget.

Jazz stared, open mouthed, at the- the uh, t _he sparkling?!_ \- not wanting to react just yet. Was this... the real surprise? That Prowl hadn't stolen him intel after all, but instead...

"It's... a sparkling...?"

Prowl stared at him. And Jazz then realised that from Prowl's position he couldn't actually see into the box. He span the crate and tipped it upwards. The sparkling squealed. And Prowl stumbled back and hit the bulkhead like it had just pulled a blaster on him.

"That. I." Prowl spat static, and Jazz could see another glitching episode coming on. "What."

Okay, so a surprise for them both.

"Prowler. Prowl chill, man," Jazz extended an arm to beckon him closer. The sparkling nestled among the datafiles and intel seemed in fairly good health. It's optics - _red_ _Decepticon optics, oh boy_ \- were focusing well and it was wriggling animatedly. It must not have been in the crate for long.

"It looks okay, Prowl."

Prowl was slumped back against the bulkhead and had fallen on his aft. He didn't seem capable of coming any closer.

Jazz slipped his servos into the crate to lift the little guy out. It was a new-spark, _very_ new, his armour still grey and colourless. It was quite obviously Decepticon in coding- it's frame heavy and bulky, the sort perfect for war.

The sparkling cooed at him, trying to grab at Jazz, a big silly grin on his face.

"Real ruthless Con you are, aren't ya?" Jazz said, and the sparkling's laugh bubbled up musically. Easily endeared, Jazz lifted the sparkling to his chest, running a soothing servo down it's back.

"Prowl!" He called to his panic-collapsed comrade when his finger's poked at little nubs on the sparkling's back. "It's a seeker, man!"

Prowl slumped an extra few inches down the wall.

"Where'd ya come from then?" Jazz held the sparkling at arms length, it's stubby legs kicking playfully in the air. Jazz used a mock-interrogative tone that only seemed to make the sparkling laugh harder. "Ya successfully infiltrated an Autobot vessel. Ya must be a spy of the highest caliber."

"Jazz," Prowl said weakly from the floor. "This is very serious."

"You're telling me." Jazz pulled the sparkling in again. "Who's kid is this? Where'd ya get that intel?"

"...Lockdown," Prowl admittedly shamefully.

Jazz's slightly hysterical good mood evaporated at the sound of that designation. That designation spelled bad news. "Seriously?"

"Just for the intelligence reports." Said Prowl, reaching for the bulkhead behind him to get back to his pedes. His left optic kept flickering, which meant his processor was on overdrive.

"Well," Jazz considered the bitlet pulling on his shoulder armour appraisingly, "Nothin' about this sparkling looks like Lockdown, thank Primus. So where'd _he_ get him from?"

"Primus knows." Prowl said solemnly. "But he is not a mech I would trust with anyone's young, regardless of allegiance."

The sparkling's unmistakably crimson optics blinked between them, seemingly aware that it was the topic of discussion. It made an inquisitive noise, pointing at Prowl. Or rather, Prowl's door-wings.

"He thinks ya family," Jazz joked.

"I am quite obviously not." Prowl snapped, clearly too stressed for teasing. "What will we do with it? We cannot return it to Lockdown and we can it abandon something so defenceless."

"What's left then?" Jazz grinned, bouncing the sparkling playfully. "Looks like he's coming home with us."

Prowl slowly slid back down the wall, his helm in his servos.

 

* * *

 

Lockdown was not being as cooperative as Mission had hoped.

"Like Pit am I gettin' dragged down with you!" Lockdown thundered, his hook hooked under Mission's scruff bar, making it impossible for Mission to get loose.

Mission regretted lowering his blaster now. "Release me or I'll unleash the full wrath of my sire's army on your pathetic livelihood!"

No one on the gambling moon saw a bounty hunter dragging a small seeker across their docks as anything out of the ordinary, and therefore, didn't bother to intervene. What looked like a group of pirates were even laughing at him. Mission's face felt like a supernova.

"Yer goin' back to yer fraggin' parents, kid!" Lockdown snarled, awkwardly extending his arm to avoid Mission's kicks and swipes. "An' yer gonna explain to ya slag-maker sire that _you_ were the one that stuck ya baby brother in my hull!"

"And you sold him to Autobots!" Mission yelled, yanking at the hook, wishing he'd outgrow that stupid scruff bar already.

"Since when'd you have a brother anyways?!" Lockdown hissed. They were ascending the ships's ramp now, and Mission knew the hunter had plenty of unpleasant restraints on board- like high tech stasis-locking cuffs, the stuff impossible to hack out of. "Yer fragging creator doesn't waste any time, does he? Surprised he didn't haul aft the second he realised he was knocked up, like last time-"

"Shut up!" Mission snarled.

They passed through the ship's entrance, under a safety bar. Mission snagged it with his pede and Lockdown stumbled with a curse, reaching around with his good arm to shake him loose, or smack him, whichever was easiest.

A mistake.

Mission planted his other thruster on Lockdown's servo as the hunter tried to free him from the safety bar. He pushed down and ignited at the same time. Lockdown roared in pain as a flame burst to life and Mission gained enough momentum to flip himself, somersaulting off the hook and over Lockdown's helm.

He landed in a crouch on the floor behind Lockdown, and wasted no time before throwing himself down the ramp.

"Hey!"

Mission looked back. Lockdown wasn't giving in so easily. Mission's spark thrummed at the exhilaration that came with being pursued, like a more intense, widespread game of chase he sometimes played with Skywarp on the _Nemesis_ -and on the rare occasion, his sire.

Lockdown furious shouts as he ran him down weren't quite as intimidating as an angry Megatron looking for someone to yell at though.

Mission ran past the pirates that had been watching, ignoring how uproariously they laughed now. He couldn't help but smirk at the jeers they hollered at Lockdown for not being able to keep his quarry, and he decided to get a little more creative with his escape.

He fled the dock, slipping further into the dense gambling planet. Neon lights and scantily clad beings were everywhere. The bright red of his armour helped him blend, but Lockdown was skilled in this sort of relentless pursuit, no matter how fast Mission moved.

He ran into a casino. It was filled with machines and holographic tables, with patrons gathered around them throwing in chips and credits. Mission was just short enough to run under the tables, leaving Lockdown to take the longer route across the floor, circumnavigating them and pushing the busy crowd out of the way.

Mission saw a row of elevators. One was just closing. He dived in, landing heavily on his knees and skidding. He twisted just as the doors pinged shut on Lockdown's furious expression.

The other occupants of the elevator looked perplexed at the sight of him, but Mission just jammed the button for the top floor. The height of the building would make for the perfect take off.

The elevator opened up to a room filled with some sort of opulent buffet. The windows ran the length of the opposite side. The guests gasped and yelled when Mission knocked them aside in a rush to get to them.

"Kid!" Lockdown roared.

Mission turned and saw Lockdown stumbling out of another elevator, a stun blaster raised. Mission's optics widened, and time seemed to slow as he considered his few options.

He'd never make it across the room and out the window without being stunned, not with Lockdown's expert aim. And he had no weapon to cover himself with.

But there was an gooey looking oil cake on the table beside him. He was picking it up before even thinking about it.

He launched it at Lockdown with all his strength. Lockdown shouted, and his blaster went off. The stun bolt hit the oil cake dead centre and the confectionary obliterated mid air, splattering the walls, the guests, and Lockdown himself in viscous sweetness.

Mission fell out of the window laughing. After two stories of free-fall he ignited his thrusters and blasted in the sky.

If Thrax was on his way to the Autobot command ship, then so was he.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Soundwave was trying to calm Megatron down.

"Don't tell me to calm down when my _family is **missing!**_ "

Skywarp wasn't sure it was working.

Stupid Thundercracker. Skywarp knew he should have gone with Starscream too. He sent off another com message to his trine, trying to convey the desperation of the situation. He didn't know if they had found the runaway sparklings yet, but he needed some good news. An update. Anything.

_Report back ASAP. Megatron knows. Repeat. Megatron knows._

Megatron, always ready to think the worst, had jumped straight to betrayed anguish, believing Starscream had left him again, this time taking two sons.

Unwilling to let anyone stew in that sort of devastation (and keen on preserving his own life) Skywarp had spilled the entire story, having no qualms about dropping Shockwave right in it for having been stupid enough to trust Mission with the sparkling, and also Starscream, for having been stupid enough to trust _Shockwave_ with either of them.

Oddly enough, Megatron wasn't reassured by the information that his sparklings -one of whom was a very young new-spark- were both lost in the depths of space. Alone.

The point was, this wasn't Skywarp's fault, and he should be able escape this entire situation unpunished and uninvolved.

"Um," he thumbed behind him, backing towards the door, "I'll just be-"

Bad idea. Megatron's attention shifted from his furious pacing to an actual live target. That target being him.

"Where are they, Skywarp!?" Megatron snarled, menacing him as he strode forwards. Skywarp stumbled back, fighting the instinct to teleport away. "Where?!"

"Screamer said not to say!" his usually deep voice squeaked. "He said he was handling-"

"Soundwave!" Megatron barked.

Skywarp felt it. Like claws dragging across the inside of his processor. Files started opening on their own accord, invisible fingers flicking through them lightning fast. Skywarp stumbled as his life flashed before his optics.

"Saint Synthia," Soundwave intoned, releasing Skywarp. "A gambling moon in the Valeria system."

A distasteful look crossed Megatron's face, "Set course."

Somewhat disoriented, and feeling rather guilty at spilling almost all of the energon beans, Skywarp tried to sneak off again, preferably before he did any worse damage.

A servo closed around his upper arm.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Skywarp wilted, staring pleadingly up at his leader. "Um...?"

"I want the full story." Megatron loomed, fingers tight on Skywarp's arm. "There is more to this than you've told. Tell me why Starscream tried to keep this from me. Tell me what he's done."

Skywarp gulped. In the back of his processor Soundwave's presence lingered, waiting for an order to pounce.

 

* * *

 

"That's his ship." Thundercracker nodded towards Lockdown's docked vessel not long after they'd landed on the tiny gambling moon.

Starscream went to move towards it, shoulders squared and fists balled in preparation -when Thundercracker caught his shoulder and pulled him back.

"I should go," he said, expression grim.

"Don't be ridiculous." Starscream knew _why_ Thundercracker was suddenly so protective. He thoroughly regretted sharing his past with Lockdown. His trine-mate had spent the entire flight here shooting him pitying looks.

He shook Thundercracker off, striding towards the ship with renewed purpose.

"Is this why you didn't want Megatron to know about Lockdown being on the _Nemesis_?" Thundercracker followed anyway, immune to his abrasiveness. "Does he...  _know?"_

"Leave it, Thundercracker!" Starscream marched up the ramp into the ship. His armour crawled at the familiar smell, the sight of the wall-mounted weapons.

"He doesn't?!" Thundercracker's thrusters clacked up the entry ramp after him. "Starscream-?"

"Of course he knows!" Starscream snarled, not seeing how Megatron fit into the Lockdown-situation at all. Or how that was any of Thundercracker's business. It was one thing about his trine he hadn't missed in his exile. The judgment.

"And what does he think?"

Starscream span out of his purposeful stride and Thundercracker almost walked into him.

"Who cares what he thinks?!" Starscream snapped, tempted to yank a gruesome looking weapon off the bulkhead and brandish it at Thundercracker. "I did what I did because I had to, and I don't regret it. You think Lockdown was the only one? The galaxies just full of familiar faces when you happen to have a million credit bounty on your helm, Thundercracker!"

Thundercracker's face paled, and Starscream couldn't bear the sight of him. He turned away and barged through the ship onto the bridge.

"Lockdown?" He called, wanting someone to punch, so it might as well be the hunter. "Lockdown?!"

Thundercracker followed at a more sedate pace, blissfully quiet now. He tapped lightly on the ship's security log. "He's not on board. No one is."

 _Obviously_ , thought Starscream.

He checked his com. There were about seven messages from Skywarp, but nothing from Lockdown. Neither fact was a good sign.

"Lockdown wouldn't leave his ship unprotected." Starscream said, thinking of the full storage hull and lowered entry ramp.

"You think there was trouble?" Thundercracker murmured, still looking through the ship's log. "Doesn't look like it..."

Starscream left the bridge and wandered the familiar corridors. He passed the doorway to Lockdown's quarters, and his processor brought forth unsolicited memories of the old hunter leaning in the doorway with that sultry smirk of his, beckoning Starscream in-

Scowling at himself for thinking of it, Starscream moved towards the exit ramp, needing some fresh air. He heard Thundercracker follow him at a distance, clearly concerned but unwilling to start another argument. Starscream was thankful for it. Thundercracker's company was a comfort, but he wasn't here to face demons. He was looking for his sparklings.

They weren't out of the ship long when he spotted a familiar looking gaunt heading their way. Starscream heard Thundercracker's nullrays whir online. He held a servo out to stop him from advancing. "Wait."

It _was_ Lockdown. Covered from pede to helm in... oil?

Starscream shuddered, wondering what he'd been doing on this pit hole of a moon to have gotten in such a state. Oil wrestling with pleasure bots?

He stepped out from the shadow of the ship's wing, and Lockdown froze, his red optics even brighter for all the dark oil marring his face.

His surprise lasted all of a second before he turned and ran.

Starscream didn't even have to yell before the sharp ' _shroom_ ' of a nullray went off, the blast exploding the decking at Lockdown's pedes. The hunter skidded and hopped with a yell. Thundercracker shot at his pedes again before he could recover.

"Alrigh' stop!" Lockdown yelled, waving his arms in defeat. "Yer got me, stop slaggin' shooting!"

"Bring him to me." Starscream told Thundercracker.

His trine-mate kept one of his nullrays trained on Lockdown as he approached. The old hunter rolled his optics in resignation but let Thundercracker seize him roughly by the shoulder and disarm him before marching him closer.

"Where are my sparklings, Lockdown?" Starscream demanded. Thundercracker tapped the end of his null ray to Lockdown's helm, wiping the sarcasm from his expression.

"How would I know?!"

Thundercracker kicked a pede into the back of Lockdown's bad leg. The hunter fell to his knees with a wince, cursing under his breath.

"We know they were on your ship." Thundercracker growled, pushing the weapon against Lockdown's cheek, denting it. "What have you done with them?"

"You and yer damn brats," Lockdown snarled at Starscream, "always gettin' me inta' slag-"

" _Where_ , Lockdown?" Starscream growled, standing over him, "I would hate to have to involve Megatron..."

Lockdown shook his helm in resignation. "Lil' slaggers were hiding in the hull."

Finally, they were getting somewhere. Starscream leant in, "Where are they now?"

"I dunno."

Thundercracker twisted Lockdown's arm.

"Argh! I don't know, ya winged cyber-rats!" Lockdown yelled, pulling away from Thundercracker's hold. "Didn't even know 'bout the lil' one. Yer Primus dammed brat shoved him in a crate, tryna get rid of him. How was I supposed to know he was in there?"

"What?" Starscream hissed, thinking of the packing crates still lining Lockdown's hull, the idea of his sparkling trapped in one. "Which crate? What happened?"

"I already made the drop," Lockdown breathed, letting his helm hang. "I didn't know, Star. I didn't know he was in there-"

Starscream dropped to Lockdown's level, uncaring of the oil as he grabbed the back of his helm and pulled it back to look him in the face. "You _traded_ my sparkling?!"

"I didn't-!"

"Who?!" Starscream shouted, yanking Lockdown's helm all the way back. "Who did you trade with?! Where's my sparkling?!"

Lockdown was trying to turn his helm away. He didn't want to answer, and Starscream's panic grew. Thundercracker's weapon began to glow with heat against Lockdown's cheek.

"Answer the question."

"Autobot." Lockdown hissed. "The Autobot Prowl."

Starscream's panic reached a crescendo. He threw himself away from Lockdown, standing and moving into the shade of the ship. Everything darkened as he thought of Thrax, stuffed away in some packing crate, trapped for who knew how long. In the servos of Autobots.

He thought of his sparkling's round little cockpit, his playful crimson optics, those stubby wing nubs- and there was no way- no _way_ they wouldn't know where he had come from.

What would they do...

There was a crash behind him and he turned to see Thundercracker had Lockdown pinned face down on the deck, a thruster on his back, nullray pressed against his helm.

"And Mission?" Thundercracker demanded, "Who did you sell _him_ to?"

"I didn't sell that brat to anybot!" Lockdown yelled into the deck, voice muffled. "As soon as I found him I was gonna bring him back to ya! He wouldn't have it, he escaped!"

Starscream rounded on him again, "Escaped?! Again?! What kind of bounty hunter is so frequently out manoeuvred by sparklings?!"

"Yer kids ain't sparklings, Star," Lockdown grunted resentfully, "They're somethin' else..."

Starscream didn't find the humour in any of this. It was worse than he'd thought. Far worse. Thrax in the hands of the Autobots and Mission loose among the stars. Again.

"Starscream," Thundercracker said softly, his foot still planted in Lockdown's back. "You're going to have to call Megatron."

Starscream offlined his optics in despair.

Call him and say what?! That he had lost their sparklings? That he hadn't been able to keep his own sparklings safe in the half day Megatron had spent away from the _Nemesis_?  

He looked up, desperate for answers.

"I don't have to call Megatron." He told Thundercracker.

"Starscream..."

Starscream pointed to the dark jagged hull of the _Nemesis_ slowly coming into land overhead.

"He's already here."

 

* * *

 

Jazz held the sparkling up. The little guy smiled goofily and tried to reach for his face.

"He looks familiar." Jazz smiled back at the sparkling, then turned him to face Prowl. "Don't ya think?"

Prowl was pretending to concentrate too intently on flying to be able to look. "No."

"Can't put my finger on it," Jazz turned the sparkling back around and bounced him lightly. "His parents are Cons, but he spends too much time smilin' for me to be able to figure it out."

"Sparklings do not grow into their adult features until they are much older, Jazz." Prowl said patiently.

"When do they grow into their adult personalities?" Jazz asked, tickling the sparkling between the wing nubs and finding great joy in the way the bitlet wriggled and squealed and almost _broke Jazz's finger_ when he managed to catch it and squeeze. Deadly grip, this one. 

"That is more a question of nature verses nurture." Said Prowl. 

"Unless ya get re-programmed." Shaking out of servo, Jazz turned the sparkling around in his lap so the little guy could see out the view port. He waved and pointed at the stars happily, blabbing non-stop like he was giving Jazz a lecture on them.

"Think he was abandoned?" He asked.

This time, Prowl did take his optics off the controls to spare the sparkling a glance.

"No," he said confidently, "Someone loves him a great deal."

"Yeah," Jazz dragged a digit over the highly polished armour of the sparkling.

There wasn't a smudge, a grease mark, an imperfection in sight. He smelled great too, like the rich polishes the high caste were known for wearing. And Decepticons weren't all that well known for the rigorous cleaning regimes, which was why so many of them were dark in colour. To hide the dirt.

"You're pretty pampered, aren't ya?"

The sparkling made an agreeable noise, trying to reach for the controls. Jazz reclined the chair back so they were out of reach. "How much longer?"

"The _Ark_ will be on our scopes shortly." Prowl promised, and Jazz could tell he was anxious. They'd comm'ed ahead to warn of the extra spark signature on their ship, explaining it for simplicities sake as a stowaway, but it was likely Prime and Ironhide were expecting a pirate or Decepticon spy, rather than a sparkling.

"It'll be okay," Jazz reassured him. "Prime will figure out what to do."

Prowl hummed.

"I'm sure he won't be mad at ya."

Prowl hummed louder.

"I mean sure, you're an accidental accomplice to a kidnapping, but-"

"Jazz."

"Yeah?"

"Your attempts at reassurance are growing counter productive."

Jazz thought it would be better to abide by Prowl's wishes and allowed the conversation to taper off from there. Unfortunately the sparkling took notice of the lull in conversation and began filling it himself, pointing at Prowl with gusto.

"You wanna hold him?" Jazz asked Prowl, because clearly the sparkling wanted him. Jazz suspected it was something to do with the door-wings the sparkling kept eyeing. They probably reminded the little guy of his parents.

Prowl wasn't easily swayed by the whims of sparklings. His grip on the controls tightened, "I assure you, I do not."

The sparkling whined sadly.

"C'mon, man,"Jazz extended the sparkling in his direction. "Jus' give him a hug."

"No." Prowl said firmly. "We're here."

Lucky escape, thought Jazz as the Ark's golden hull shone in the viewport.

He checked the sparkling over one last time as Prowl transmitted the entry codes, jumping through Red Alert's copious security questions before they were allowed to pass through the shielding and enter the hanger. Jazz licked his thumb and wiped away a smudge mark from the sparkling's helm, prompting a grumpy 'bah!' from the bitlet.

Jazz didn't want Prime thinking any worse of them than he already would. Yes, they'd accidentally stolen a very small Decepticon, but by Primus was that Decepticon going to be in the best shape possible to minimise the incoming judgement.

Optimus Prime was waiting for them in the hanger, curious enough about their vague message of a stowaway for him to have come down to see for himself. Jazz glanced at him through the viewport as he stood. Prime looked stern; thinking he was about to face some ruffian likely.

Prowl took a deep breath and left the captain's seat. Jazz hitched the sparkling higher and followed.

Prime assessed Prowl as he moved down the landing ramp, and clearly satisfied with his condition, his gaze softened.

"Prowl," his baritone greeted warmly. "You look well. Jazz mentioned... troubles?"

Jazz had managed to hide the sparkling from Prime's attention as he crept down into the hanger behind Prowl, but unwilling to draw the situation out any longer, he stepped out, revealing their new acquaintance.

Prime looked up at his movement, and his optics flared white.

"Hey," Jazz waved halfheartedly, and the sparkling copied him, flapping an arm haphazardly at Prime. "We kinda picked up a stowaway."

Prowl noticeably shrank away as Prime continued to stare.

"...I see," he rumbled. "A sparkling."

There wasn't an immediate security lockdown at the sudden presence of a Decepticon (however small) on the Autobot flagship, so Jazz instantly felt his intakes expand with air. Prime moved past Prowl to contemplate the tiny frame tucked against Jazz's chest, a servo extended cautiously.

"Hello," he murmured, and the sparkling reached out to grab him with a squeal of delight, tiny pedes kicking Jazz's chest.

Prime was wearing the battle mask so Jazz couldn't see a smile, but he knew it was there.

 

* * *

 

Megatron had sent Shockwave and a team of lackeys to collect Starscream and his errant trine-mate from the moon. He had ordered them to be brought before his throne, his temper too fierce for him to trust himself alone with Starscream.

The situation was not at all helped by Shockwave coming to him ten minutes later to say Lockdown had been apprehended and locked in the bridge, and that Starscream was not going to make it to the bridge, and had instead been escorted to his private quarters, where he was awaiting him with his trine.

Wondering how the Pit Starscream had managed to overrule his orders and smarting over yet _another_ Decepticon's disobedience, Megatron glowered at Shockwave to let him know he was not in the least bit pleased, and began marching his way through the ship to his quarters.

If Starscream was going to try and gang up on him with his trine, he had another thing coming.

He was fulling expecting to find three disagreeable seekers just as ready for a blow out argument as he was. But when door opened it revealed a scene very different.

Starscream was sat on the floor, hunched over with his back to Megatron. Beside him knelt Skywarp, whose own expression was hidden by Starscream's wing. He had his servo on Starscream's shoulder vent in a gesture that looked comforting. Stood over them was Thundercracker, who met Megatron's gaze first.

"Sir," he said softly, then reached down to help Skywarp up. "Come on, Warp."

"It's gonna be okay," Megatron heard Skywarp whisper to Starscream before he stood, "Don't worry..."

Starscream didn't acknowledge either of his trine. Megatron was so taken aback by his passive silence that he found himself looking to Skywarp for an explanation.

Neither seeker said anything. Thundercracker kept his optics low, like he didn't want to meet his gaze. Skywarp looked miserable. They left in ominous silence.

Megatron knew immediately that his sparkling's hadn't yet been retrieved.

His spark filled with fear again as he turned to his mate.

"Starscream," He breathed, stepping closer, "Where are they?"

A shake, _no_ , and Starscream's wings slumped lower.

"Answer me."

Armour locked tightly together, shoulders hunching- proof that Starscream was trying to shut him out physically as well as emotionally.

Frustration rose to the surface and outweighed his sympathy. Gritting his denta he strode forward and dropped to his knees beside Starscream, catching his wrist before he could shuffle away. There was a brief grapple, Starscream refusing to look at him and scratching to make him let go.

"Look at me. No, _look_ at me."

A rough shake, and Starscream finally did. Gaze dropping quickly again, but not before Megatron saw the moisture glistening around his optics. He looked utterly furious at having been caught crying.

Still annoyed, and uncaring of Starscream's embarrassment, Megatron cupped the side of his face and gruffly wiped the moisture away with his thumb. "I don't know why _you're_ crying-" he grumbled.

"I've had a bad day." Starscream finally spoke, voice creaking. He glared at the floor as he tried to regain control of himself.

"And I haven't?" Megatron growled. "You were found with Lockdown."

Starscream's vocaliser hitched, pitch upping an octave with panic, "I wasn't _leaving_ -!"

"Skywarp explained." Megatron softened his tone, angry, but not angry enough to make Starscream feel any worse. Yet. "You didn't call when you realised they were missing."

Starscream didn't answer.

"I'm assuming because you didn't want me to know about your little arrangement?" Megatron tilted his helm to try and catch his lowered gaze. "Because yet again, you _lied_ to me."

Starscream covered his face. He sniffed again. Louder this time. "You don't- you don't have to rub it in."

Megatron took his servos from his face, held them both so Starscream would have nothing to hide behind. "You're going to tell me everything now though, aren't you?"

There was a pause. Starscream's tear streaked face glaring like he was trying to think of something clever to say, to save face. Eventually he deflated, optics offlining in defeat as he nodded, softly breathing, "Yes."

"Now," Megatron leaned in, squeezing the fingers he held comfortingly, somehow just not angry enough at Starscream to muster any more harshness. "Where are our sparklings?" 

 

* * *

 

They had called ahead, but Ratchet wasnt pleased with them. He'd taken one look at the little grey ball of armour with limbs and brandished his wrench like a lunatic.

"Sparkling?!" He snarled, coming for them.

Prowl and Prime stumbled back and Jazz held the sparkling tighter, in hopes of deterring Ratchet from flinging anything at him when he was holding the defenceless bitlet.

"That's a new-spark!" Ratchet lectured them furiously.

"We said-" Jazz tried.

"You said ' _sparkling_ ', not a Primus-damned factory-fresh new-spark! I don't have the tools here to-" Ratchet cut himself off with a huff, muttering obscenities. He reached to take the sparkling, who had been smiling at Ratchet's incensed rant looking delighted. Perhaps he was used to yelling.

"Let's have look then." Ratchet said gruffly.

The sparkling was all too happy to change servos. Ratchet gave him an appraising look, grumbling under his breath about something that sounded like 'over-sexed Decepticons' as he carried the sparkling to a nearby examination berth.

Jazz and Prime followed. Prowl kept himself by the door, looking like he'd rather fling himself out of them than have to be here any longer.

The sparkling sat in the centre of the examination berth and it made him look all the more ridiculously small. He kicked and grabbed at his pedes, looking about the medbay wondrously, reaching for things to touch.

"Here," Ratchet turned from an equipment table and handed the sparkling his wrench. The sparkling took it with both pudgy little servos and stared at it in amazement. Then shoved it into his mouth to try and chew it to death.

"That should keep him busy," Ratchet grumbled, returning again with the scanner. "Let's hope he's in good shape. Nothing I have on board is small enough for a frame this delicate."

Jazz shifted his pedes, fingers crossed as Ratchet began scanning the little guy.

"Can you give us an approximate age?" Prime rumbled, watching patiently.

Ratchet nodded and gestured to the preoccupied sparkling's back. Jazz followed Prime curiously as they inspected the patch of armour between the new-spark's wing nubs. "See here, there's some colour starting to come in."

Jazz couldn't see anything, but Prime leant in close, one huge digit -as big as one of the sparkling's legs- nudged aside a tiny wing nub, and there was a blossoming patch of silvery white coming in, spreading from the joints out across the armour.

"Once it starts it's a quick process, so give it a week or so and it'll be everywhere," Ratchet explained. "Seeker's begin to colour faster than most, so I reckon he's been online for a couple of weeks now. Less than a month."

Jazz whistled low.

Prime straightened with a heavy sigh, optics weary above his mask. "He is far too young to have been separated from his caregivers." He said solemnly.

"You're telling me," Ratchet groused, and came back with a dull looking cube.

Jazz wrinkled his olfactory in disgust. It looked like the lowest of the low-grades. Hardly any actually energon in it with how foggy and colourless it was. The sparkling squealed at the sight of it, dropping the wrench from his mouth and kicking his legs in excitement.

"May I?" Prime asked.

Like Ratchet would say no to those desperate optics.

Ratchet passed the cube over with a resigned snort, "You know how?"

"I do." Prime promised, and cupped the back of the sparkling in one of his giant servos. He guided the cube towards, gently titling it so the bitlet wouldn't guzzle too fast. The sparkling's tiny servos grabbed clumsily for the cube, one of them settling over Optimus's digit.

Prime looked smitten.

"We can't... keep him though?" Jazz wondered out loud. Behind him, Prowl glanced up, looking fearful. "I mean. We've gotta find his home?"

"His heritage may make that difficult, Jazz," said Prime, still watching the sparkling drink down the fuel. "We will do everything in our power to return him to his family, but we must be prepared for the eventually that he may not be welcome back."

Jazz frowned, "He's just a bitlet. Course his parents are gonna wan' him back."

"Megatron has grown only more paranoid and secretive this last vorn," Prime rumbled, but smiled when the sparkling drew away from the cube to squeal happily, "Megatron may not be aware some of his mechs have procreated, and might not appreciate the drainage on resources a sparkling would bring. Before attempting contact we must be sure we are not endangering his safety, or that of his parents."

Jazz blew a hot gust of air. "That's gonna be complicated."

"Indeed." Said Prime, "And that would be _before_ the trials of convincing Megatron a goodnatured handover is not an elaborate trap."

"Well, he's in good shape," Ratchet finally finished assessing the results of the scan and brought them some good news. "Well looked after. Well fuelled. Near spotless..."

"Never seen a sparkling so clean," Jazz agreed.

"Or so well behaved." Primus murmured, taking the cube away as the sparkling finished, and gently poking at his cockpit to prompt a laugh. "We're sure he's Decepticon?"

Ratchet nodded, brandishing the datafile. "On yeah. His coding reeks of the Tarnish low-caste. He's not just seeker."

A Decepticon born and bred then.

"What do we call him?" Jazz wondered, thinking if the sparkling was going to be here a while they'd need to call him something. "Prime?"

Prime arched an optical ridge and looked over to where Prowl was pretending not to be interested in any of this. "I suggest we extend that courteously to the mech who brought him into our midsts. What do you say Prowl?"

Prowl barely looked up, "It is not my place, sir."

"Then I think we should call him Wriggles," Jazz threw in, knowing that would wind Prowl up enough to act. "Eh?"

"It's appropriate." Ratchet growled, frowning at his wriggling patient.

"Prowl?" Prime prompted again.

"Do as you wish." Prowl said simply, and walked out the door.

Jazz dropped to the sparkling's level in front of the medberth, smiling toothily, "Wriggles it is."

Ratchet and Prime sighed deeply.

* * *

 

Mission traded every last credit of his pittance of an allowance at the nearest outpost- no decent spaceport was without a local unaligned informant.

The informant counted the credits slowly, occasionally looking up at him with her one good optic, amused.

"You Con's get younger every vorn," she murmured finally, subspacing the credits. "Whadaya need?"

"If someone was looking to avoid Autobot presence, where would be best to stay clear of?" Mission asked.

The informant cocked her hip, brow raised. She huffed a light laugh, "...Well, first I'd take those insignias offa ya wings if I was you."

Mission frowned, flicking his wings. "I didn't ask your opinion on my appearance."

She snorted, "Your funeral. 'Bots are all gathered around the Kan-Kul outpost. There's an energon deposit there, small, but uninhabited. You know what those Bot's are like 'bout uprooting local populaces..."

"They're on the outpost?"

"Nah, jus' a few of them are manning the deposit. Word is most are patrolling the surroundin' system, hidin' on the dark sides of the nearby moons. _Ark's_ been seem circling the area in a big loop though, ready to jump and defend against any overconfident visitors."

Mission hummed. Autobot High Command didn't get any higher than the _Ark_. If Thrax was anywhere, he'd be there.

"Tell me about the _Ark._ "

The informant waved him off, "Get outta here kid. I told you enough, this ain't a charity."

Mission could have argued. He'd given her more than enough for more, but he as unarmed and alone. He couldn't push his luck. He turned to leave.

"N' get rid a' those ugly things on ya wings!" She called after him.

Mission blasted off in a huff, waiting until he was out of her range before opening a star map and plotting a course to Kan-Kul. From there, he would track the _Ark_.

It couldn't be any harder to infiltrate than it the _Nemesis_.

Could it?

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Megatron punched the table for what had to be the sixth time in the last hour. By now, no one bothered to flinch.

"Can not one of you imbeciles conceive of a simple plan of action?!" He bellowed. "Am I surrounded by incompetence?!"

The room was silent. Next to him Starscream was scowling at one of the walls. He'd quickly recovered from his earlier bout of vulnerability and seemed to be channelling every one of his emotions into maintaining the longest running silent treatment Megatron had ever witnessed from him.

Even when Shockwave had stood and suggested they simply com the Autobots and explain what happened -like they were all old acquaintances who wouldn't _at all_ use the information that they didn't have just _any_ Decepticon offspring but one of _Megatron's heirs_ against them- Starscream hadn't said a word. Hadn't even flashed him a dirty look.

It had been up to Megatron to tell Shockwave how stupid he was.

"We blast their ships out of the sky and take the little one back!" Had been another suggestion, from Vortex this time. Megatron appreciated his violent spirit, but-

"Risk to the sparkling; high." Soundwave intoned loudly, and judgmentally.

Megatron agreed. As satisfying as it would be to tear the Autobots apart and reclaim his offspring, it was too dangerous.

Thrax's armour was just about thick enough to protect him from a firm poke. He wouldn't survive a _drop_ , let alone a stray stun bolt.

"Infiltration is our only option." Megatron felt overcome with resignation. "Soundwave?"

His third's visor lowered as he considered the odds. "...Acknowledged."

"This has to be foolproof," Megatron announced to his gathered crew. "There can be no room for error. Use every contact you can that may have links to Autobot operations. Find out where both sparklings have landed themselves."

He was answered with nods. Chairs scrapped back as they began funnelling out of the war room. Megatron met Soundwave's gaze before he too left, an unspoken request for another private audience later. He nodded.

Starscream was still sulking next to him.

"Will you look at me?" He asked.

Starscream turned his helm in the opposite direction.

"You know, I don't know how I'll ever have a chance to miss Mission when you're filling the role of infantile stubbornness so well in his absence." He continued.

Starscream snorted, "Stop it."

Megatron took his shoulder and tried to turn him to face him, gruffly saying, "Don't shut me out, seeker."

"I lost them."

"You didn't lose them," Megatron sighed, quickly growing tired of Starscream's guilt. "...Lockdown did."

"You can't just blame-"

"I'll blame who I like," Megatron said stubbornly, and this time did turn Starscream to face him. He slipped a digit under his chin and tilted his handsome face up.

"I was outmanoeuvred by my own sparkling." Starscream despaired, disgusted with himself.

Megatron huffed an agreement, grumbling, "He outmanoeuvres me every cycle..."

"Because you're the soft idiot that lets him get away with everything." Starscream growled. "They're supposed to _respect_ _me_. You're going to spoil Thrax."

"Undeniably," Megatron rubbed his thumb across Starscream cheek. "Which is precisely why we need to get them back. Out of Autobot servos, before they come to harm."

"Or worse," Starscream grimaced, "Are corrupted by their backwards rhetoric."

"Primus forbid..."

Starscream inched forwards, as if to seek his embrace, then froze at last minute, clearly thinking better of it. Megatron felt his spark wilt as he watched him turn away.

"You should rest." He said to the table.

"Will you?"

Megatron didn't answer. His servo settled over the stack of intel in front of him. "We'll see."

He had a long night ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

News of their stowaway travelled quickly, and the excitement of having a sparkling onboard for the first time since Bumblebee was a bitlet lightened spirits. Optimus wondered if that would change when the sparkling's identity as a Decepticon seeker was revealed.

He had faith in his crew. Former Decepticons had been welcomed into their ranks before, and such an innocent life couldn't possibly be held accountable for the crimes of it's brethren.

But grudges weren't often held with any logical reasoning.

For that reason, only the command crew had been permitted to meet their young stowaway. Jazz, though already fond the sparkling, was fonder still of getting him back home, and had dutifully handed 'Wriggles' over to Optimus in order to get a start on the long task of tracking his parents.

"Where's he gonna stay?" Ironhide rumbled, watching the sparkling in Optimus's lap thoughtfully.

He, like most of command, had accepted the sparkling's presence and origins easily, though not without great amusement.

The only exception had been Red Alert, who'd jumped straight into panic mode and demanded he be allowed to scan the Decepticon for listening devices and other suspect items. Optimus wasn't letting _anyone_ stick a sparkling in an industrial security scanner, no matter the security risk. So Red Alert had been sent to what had been affectionately named 'The Cool Off Closet' until his paranoia subsided enough for him to understand why that wasn't an acceptable request.

"Don't talk it personally, scrap," Ironhide had told the sparkling lightly, leaning into Optimus's space to give 'Wriggles' a little scratch between the wings. "He's wound too tight..."

The sparkling didn't appear to mind being crowded by so many strangers. He was confident, friendly. Ratchet mentioned something about how seeker trines were often communal caregivers, so perhaps the sparkling was used to it.

"He likes ya, Prime," Ironhide commented, and Optimus looked up from where he'd been watching the sparkling yank on one of his windscreen wipers with considerable force. "Maybe you should take 'im?"

"Perhaps..." Optimus answered. He was far too busy though. He couldn't possibly be expected to-

The sparkling started chewing on the windscreen wiper instead, making angry frustrated noises at not being able to break it. Tiny digits were leaving smudges on the glass. Optimus was resigned to the rough treatment, reluctantly accepting that the little one _was_ rather sweet...

"Well, I suppose-"

"Great!" Ratchet clapped his servos together before he could finish. "It's decided. He stays in your quarters. You only need to refuel him half a dozen times through the night."

Optimus looked up, realising he might have just been duped by his older, more experienced friends. "What...?"

"It'll be fine, Prime." Ironhide's heavy servo landed on his shoulder and squeezed. "He likes ya."

Optimus hoped that would be enough to get him through the night.

 

* * *

 

He _had_ been duped, Optimus concluded on his third, perhaps forth, awakening.

The sparkling had fallen asleep easily enough, optics offlining as soon as he'd been lowered into Ratchet's makeshift crib. Optimus had stayed and watched the tiny cockpit rise and fall with the sparkling's deep intakes, awed by the novelty of it.

He regretted that now, as piercing shrieks filled his quarters. He could have used those extra moments recharge.

"I'm up, I'm up," he murmured as he trudged to the crib at the end of his berth. The shrieks died into fretful whimpers at the sound of his voice. Optimus peered in and two innocent red optics shone back at him- an oxymoron, perhaps. Red optics may never again hold the same menace as they once had.

The sparking reached for him, and Optimus obliged, lifting him to his chest. He endured the wiper chewing as he carried the little one back to his own berth, then unsubspaced a cube of the low grade Ratchet had given him. He lowered the sparking to his knee.

The sparkling fuelled hungrily, watching Optimus curiously as he drank.

Optimus inspected him closely. The white on his back had blossomed outwards, up his wings like a star, and some had begun to show on the bottom of his round thrusters. Few Decepticons were white...

He had very seeker-like traits too, even at such a young age. Beyond the chubby cheeks and huge optics, the sparkling had delicate features, a small triangle of a nose and a narrow jaw.

"You're a handsome seeker, aren't you," Optimus told him softly. The cube was soon finished and the sparkling frowned at the lack of forthcoming energon. Something about him looked startlingly familiar with the change in expression.

But it was gone before he could place it. The sparkling opened his mouth and yawned instead. A big yawn. Optics fluttered and Optimus scooped him back up again.

And he only had to do this two or three more times tonight...

 

* * *

 

Starscream woke with a start, sitting upright in the berth with a gasp of breath. The room was dreadfully silent. No crying sparkling. No snoring Megatron.

He looked across the room and soon discovered why. Megatron was still up, studying from the mess of datafiles spread across his work station. Starscream watched until he noticed, helm lifting tiredly.

"Go back to sleep," he ordered gruffly, bending over the files again.

"It's cold without you," Starscream threw aside the covers and swung his legs down. "Come join me?"

Megatron snorted.

Starscream decided to join him instead. He perched on the very edge of the desk, ignoring Megatron's disapproving grumble, and turned one of the datapads closest to him. He perused the plans so far.

Covert rescue missions, attacks, possible negotiations, trading ransoms. That last one wouldn't work. The only prisoner they had in their brig was Lockdown. Starscream doubted Prime would care what happened to the cross-factions mutual unaffiliated friend.

Megatron slumped back in his seat and rubbed a servo down his face exhaustedly.

"Come to berth." Starscream tried again, moving behind Megatron to rub at his broad shoulders. "I have something for you. A gift."

"What?" Megatron breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose as though to ward of a migraine.

Starscream bent low and brushed their cheeks together, "You have to come to berth."

Megatron snorted, "I'm not in the _mood_ -"

"Oh, get your processor out of the gutter," Starscream reproached, finally losing his temper,  offended that Megatron would think he was interested in _that_ at a time like this. "And get up, I want to show you this."

Megatron tossed the datafile down with considerable attitude and pushed his chair back with a harsh scrape. But he was up. Starscream let the sass slide for now, knowing Megatron was only grumpy from stress and recharge deprivation.

He took Megatron's wrist and led him to the berth, letting his leader's weary frame settle against the headboard before removing an old, but precious image projector from his subspace. He worried it between his servos for a moment, before passing it over.

Megatron frowned at it, thumb on the 'activate' button.

"I had these transferred from my memory banks," Starscream explained before Megatron could turn it on, "I didn't want to run the risk of them being lost, or overwritten."

Megatron looked at him curiously, and then flicked it on.

The projector lit up with the hologram of a new-spark. A seeker. Though it was hard to tell; curled up and grey, barely a cycle old. A crease of confusion marred Megatron's brow.

"...This isn't Thrax." He realised, and held the projector closer, optics focusing on the grainy image, taking in every last detail as he murmured an awed, "Mission..."

Starscream leant against his shoulder and nodded.

"I should have given you this before. I just- I didn't want to acknowledge how much you'd missed. But then Thrax came along and you were so disgustingly sentimental with him..."

Megatron didn't appear resentful. His digit blurred the projection as he reached to touch it. "He was very small."

"Sparklings are." Starscream agreed, but also felt the need to add, "I'd like you to take note of how big his helm was."

Megatron snorted, "Doesn't look that big."

"It _felt_ big," Starscream growled, and reached over to press the skip button.

The next image was of Mission sat on the floor, just two luna cycles old and his trademark scowl already in place. He had begun to show his colours in this picture, the red in full bloom, and the patches which would be black already starting to darken.

Megatron reclined further down the berth, still holding the projection. "How many are there?"

"Not enough," Starscream admitted. He hadn't had a lot of time to take image captures of his sparkling. He had been too busy struggling to keep Mission alive.

Megatron seemed mollified enough with the pictures of his eldest son for now though. Starscream pressed into his side, tossing his arm across Megatron's chest as he watched him go through the images, one by one. When he reached the last -Mission airborne, young face bright with a rare smile- he kept it online and laid it on the berth beside him, the pride on his face marred with sadness.

"His first flight," Starscream supplied.

Megatron nodded, not taking his optics off the image. "I swore I wouldn't miss Thrax's."

"You won't," Starscream promised, nuzzling closer, until Megatron got the hint and slipped an arm around him, resigned. "They'll be back before you know it."

They laid together in silence. Starscream waited until Megatron's sleep deprived processor decided to take advantage of his reclined position and knocked him into recharge, shutters lowering over dimming optics and intakes slowing. Starscream pushed a kiss to the edge of Megatron's jaw before extracting himself from his arms.

He crept back to the datafiles, ignoring Megatron's preferred rescue plan. Holding the Autobot's ransom was the only way to ensure his sparkling's safety, and though they may not have a prisoner to trade yet, there were a fair few Autobot warriors more than worth a sparkling prisoner.   
  
"Soundwave?" He raised his com.

" _Soundwave; Receiving_."

"Are we still in orbit above the moon?"

" _Affirmative. Nemesis refuelling; eighty five percent complete._ "

Starscream knew Megatron would have them off and scouring the stars so as soon as they were able. "I have a plan. Delay leaving the system."

There was a pause. Soundwave likely warring with his loyalty to Megatron and his desire to use whatever means necessary to recover the sparklings.

" _Acknowledged_."

Starscream checked Megatron was still asleep, then slipped out the door. Time to pay Lockdown a visit, and see if any Autobots were stupid enough to consider the old hunter a friend.

 

* * *

 

Jazz and Prowl were taking off early in the cycle. Resigned to not getting any recharge anyway, Optimus was up to see them off from the bridge. The safest option was to locate Lockdown, potentially apprehend him, and interrogate him in hopes of learning how he had procured a sparkling.

Optimus understood that Prowl had a 'history' of sorts with the hunter, which should mean it wouldn't be too difficult getting hold of him. With Jazz's assistance it would be a simple mission.

"See ya soon, Wriggles," Jazz softly whispered to the recharging sparkling resting in the crook of Optimus's arm, tiny fingers gripping a windshield wiper even in his recharge.

"Jazz," Prowl growled, optic twitching at the name choice.

"We've gotta couple leads." Jazz told Optimus, ignoring Prowl. "We'll com you over a secure channel if one looks promising."

"I trust your judgement," Optimus nodded, looking between them. "Good luck."

Prowl and Jazz left for the hanger, and unwilling to expose the sparkling to the rumble of a transport's engines whilst he was trying to sleep, Optimus watched them take off from a muted security monitor.

Optimus looked down at him. "Well, I suppose it's time you met the rest of the crew."

* * *

 

Two red optics blinked. A sea of blue stared back.

The silence broke when a smile pulled at the sparkling's mouth, a funny little laugh bubbling up.

And the room erupted in excited noise.

Optimus was bombarded with pleas to hold the sparkling, to get a closer look, questions of if he can talk yet? Walk? What's his designation? Where'd be come from?

It was difficult to field so many requests at once, and became even harder to hear them in the first place when Silverbolt and his brothers came within the sparkling's line of sight.

The squeal of delight the sparkling let loose could have cracked glass. Optimus winced, audial sensors crackling. The questions died down out of utter surprise that someone so small could make such a loud noise.

Silverbolt looked worried, taking a step back as though he'd done something wrong.

"He likes wings," Optimus explained, and thought it only fair he allow the Aerialbot the first turn of holding their newcomer. He extended the sparkling out, and the shrieks picked up in volume again until Silverbolt gave in and took him.

The sparkling almost immediately tried to climb over Silverbolt's shoulder to grab his wing. Silverbolt winced, "Ow-- ow-ow-ow- _Ow!_ "

"What's it 'bout seekers that makes them wanna take you outta the sky, Silver?" Ironhide laughed.

"Let's see you keep his fingers off your extremities!" Silverbolt bit back, and peeled the sparking off his shoulder to pass him to Ironhide.

"Aw, Primus," Ironhide grumbled, taking the little one like he was being handed a live bomb. He rubbed his thumb between the flicking wing nubs. The sparkling laughed. "Never thought I'd see the cycle I tickle a Con..."

"Where was he found, Prime?" Perceptor asked as they watched the crew pass the sparkling between them. Optimus was proud to see how gentle they were being, how accepting of the new-spark they were.

"We are still working on that, Perceptor," Optimus admitted. "But no harm shall befall him whilst in our care."

"Let's hope no one drops him then." Perceptor said quietly, and Optimus looked up in time to see Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shouldering their way to the front, eager for a turn.

Optimus lurched towards them with a spike of fear. The believed the twins had innocent intentions, but they were notoriously heavy handed, and often at times irresponsible. He recalled an incident involving a game of 'catch' when Bumblebee had been a youngling- and the ball.

"Just a moment Sideswipe," he stepped in quickly, "Perhaps it would be best that we all learnt from Ratchet how to hold a new-spark?"

The last thing he wanted was to make contact with the sparkling's mystery parents only to have to tell them they'd dropped their offspring on it's head.

It wouldn't bode well for future Autobot-Decepticon relations.

 

* * *

 

Built for stealth, the _Ark_ was not.

Unlike the _Nemesis_ , whose dark hull and jagged shape allowed it to blend in amongst the stars and shadows, the _Ark Interceptor_ was glistening gold, reflecting the shine of a nearby sun. Mission spotted it from a distance, at first mistaking it for a dying star before his scans registered life forms.

He didn't know for sure if his brother was on board, but the _Ark_ was as good as any place to start. If not, there was nothing to stop him from cornering some defenceless Autobot and shaking the answer out of them.

He checked his subspace, grimacing at his lack of weaponry. Sire was to blame. Mission was sure Megatron had confiscated enough blasters and nullrays off him to build a second armoury. He should have had the foresight to stock up on Lockdown's ship.

What he did have were the joke smoke bombs Skywarp had made him (potentially toxic), some loose screws and bolts from whatever he had last been building, and a long metal pole he'd yanked off of some scaffolding on the _Nemesis_ and liked to sometimes pretend was a sword. Not exactly an armoury to envy, but he had taken his sire out with a pillow once, so this would be more than sufficient for Autobots.

He cloaked himself, and assuming the _Ark_ had the same weaknesses as the _Nemesis_ , flew into the blind spots. He spied sixteen particle-combustion cannons running the length of the flagship's port side as he closed in, but pulled up short when he saw a detection shield glowing around the circumference of the ship.

It looked fairly stable.

With a huff of irritation he pushed his own shield up to the max and headed for the _Ark's_ aft, where the heat from the interceptor's thrusters would weaken the accuracy of the detection shield. He braced himself and clenched his denta as he flew through the blast of the thrusters and past the shield.

With any luck the stupid Autobots would assume he was a piece of debris.

He kept himself tucked close to the ship just in case, counting down.

Ten seconds passed, and he hadn't been blasted to the Pit and back yet.

Exhaling in relief, he set his thrusters to a low burn, a heat signature that would remain unnoticed, and drifted upside-down along the bottom of the _Ark_ , fingers brushing the warm golden metal, searching for hidden access panels, somewhere he might be able to hack an airlock, or release a vent. He was sure he could still fit.

About halfway along the _Ark_ he found what he was looking for. A waste shoot. He wrinkled his olfactory but his sensors didn't detect anything toxic or unpleasant. Just general scrap they weren't interested in likely. It wasn't protected by security sensors, but then why bother. Who would steal garbage?

He pulled himself in, shimmying up the shoot. It was tight, and his vents caught as panic rose-

No. He need to find his brother. He wriggled deeper, pedes kicking at the inside of the vent to push him along. He was going to find Thrax. No matter how tight the vent became.

He was rescuing his brother.

 

* * *

 

 

They weren't three hours from the _Ark_ when Prowl's comlink pinged.

"You have control," he said to Jazz, releasing the ship's steering to accept the call. It was a summoning beacon from a transport ship. He recognised Lockdown's signature.

Of all the luck...

"Alter our coordinates," Prowl told Jazz, "I have a location on Lockdown."

"He called ya?" Jazz frowned, but tapped in the numbers anyway.

"His ship is signalling me. It's in the Valeria system..."

"Think he realised he gave ya more than just intel?" Jazz laughed, seeing the humour in their situation.

"Likely." Prowl huffed, taking back the ships's controls.

The ship was hailing his comm from a small moon, Saint Synthia, often nicknamed 'St Sins' for it's less than reputable reputation. Prowl landed them in the docks and switched his comlink to Tracking. Lockdown himself hadn't hailed him yet, which could mean trouble.

"Exercise caution." He advised Jazz, stepping out of their transport and heading in the direction of Lockdown's ships' signal.

It didn't take them long to find it. Armed to it's illegally modified teeth, Lockdown's transport ship stood out on any dock, civilised or not. Jet black and neon green, it loomed across the dock at them. Prowl set his mouth into a grim line and marched towards it, more than ready to get to the bottom of whatever disaster Lockdown had managed to involve him in now.

"Prowler?" Jazz called, rushing to catch up. Prowl felt his servo on his doorwing, "Thought you said to be cautious? We don't wanna-"

"Run into a trap?"

Prowl turned at the deep voice, but was blinded by a flash of purple.

His battle computer recognised the Decepticon Skywarp and began to plan accordingly. He unsubspaced his blaster, ready to shoot the Decepticon in the cockpit and take out that pesky warp drive, when a thruster kicked his wrist. His blaster went flying.

Jazz gasped.

Prowl span back around and Skywarp had his forearm around Jazz's throat, suspending him metres off the ground, a nullray to his chest. Jazz struggled, pedes kicking at the air. The muzzle of another weapon nudged Prowl's helm, and he turned to see Skywarp's identical mate.

Thundercracker looked grim, "Offline your weapon systems, or your mini-bot gets it."

"Hey, I ain't-ack!" Jazz's protest was cut off as Skywarp's forearm tightened around his throat.

Resigned, Prowl powered down his battle computer and lifted his servos, letting Thundercracker roughly frisk him. Satisfied he had no weapons, Thundercracker pulled out a pair of cuffs. They snapped around his wrists tightly. Jazz received the same treatment.

Finished, Thundercracker gestured with his nullray. "Move."

Skywarp released Jazz, giving him a shove in the same direction.

Jazz caught Prowl's optics as they walked, nullrays against their backs, and whispered, "Think our little stowaway might have something to do with this?"

Prowl have him a withering look, muttering back, "You don't say..."

 

* * *

 

The only good Decepticon was a dead one- had previously been Sideswipe's motto. There was never any love lost between his brother and him, and the seekers.

There was an exception to every rule though.

And the exception to _this_ rule was the sparkling sat across from him, digits flexing excitedly as he watched Sideswipe crouch at a distance with a colourful yellow plastic ball that he may or may not have stolen from Perceptor's lab.

"Ready?"

The sparkling blared excitable static at him, stubby little legs kicking against the floor.

Sideswipe gently rolled the ball towards him.

The sparkling watched it with a focus well beyond it's function. The ball rolled merrily towards him until it came to a stop between his spread legs. He slapped a servo to the top of it victoriously, delighting in it's soft texture.

" _What_ the _frag_ are you _doing_?" Sunstreaker asked, watching with an expression of utter revulsion.

"You wanna watch your fraggjn' language, Sunshine," Sideswipe sniped back, and waved beckoningly at the sparkling, "C'mon little guy. Roll it back."

The sparkling frowned in confusion, looking between the ball and Sideswipe, before making up his mind and curling himself over the top of his new toy with an annoyed noise. An obvious declaration that the ball was his now, and he would not be returning it.

"Your _Decepticon_ is showing," Sideswipe told him lightly, straightening out of his crouch.

"Don't get attached to it," Sunstreaker murmured. He was leant against the wall, rubbing polish into his dark digits, inspecting them as he worked. "It won't be here long. It's a Con."

"Don't be an aft, Sunny," Sideswipe moved to pick the sparkling up.

Thinking Sideswipe was making a bid to steal his ball back, the sparkling yelled out in protest, hugging it even tighter. The plastic bulged in his small but strong servos, in serious danger of breaking.

Sideswipe didn't mind the wriggling and yelling though. The novelty of a sparkling had everyone vying for a chance at sparklingsitting. He'd only been allotted one joor. He wasn't going to waste it arguing with Sunstreaker.

"If they can't find his parents, they'll have to dump him at some neutral outpost. They have shelters there that take in abandoned... _things_." Sunstreaker continued, clearly itching for an argument.

Sideswipe covered the sparkling's audials, "That won't happen. He'll stay here."

"On the flagship?" Sunstreaker snorted.

"Bumblebee did."

"Bumblebee wasn't a Con."

Sideswipe glanced down at the sparkling. Two red optics stared back.

"Shut up, Sunny." He muttered again, shifting the sparkling up against his chest and moving to leave the room in a huff.

He moved into the corridor and took three steps before slowing, then pausing, looking up as his audials sensed little ' _tap tap taps_ ' in the vents above his helm. He tightened his grip around the sparkling.

"Sunny?!"

"...What _now?"_

Sideswipe didn't take his optics off the vents above him, "There's something in the vent..."

The _tap tap taps_ grew louder as they passed directly overhead. Sideswipe stumbled back, into his brother. Sunstreaker shoved him, frowning, and-

"Listen!" Sideswipe threw out an arm.

 _Tap tap tap_ , like something small scrambling overheard.

"...Scraplets?!" Sunstreaker breathed, arms wrapping around his perfectly polished armour out of instinct.

"No, no... It's not fast enough..." Sideswipe cautiously followed the vent, worried something awful was going to drop out of it any second and go for the defenceless new-spark he held. With the direction the vent was aimed, it looked like it was heading for the bridge.

"Com Red."

 

* * *

 

He had to be nearing the end by now, Mission thought, pausing to take a breath as he crawled up another deck level. He should have scoured the hull for longer, found an air vent instead, something not quite so stuffy.

He quickly shuffled another few minutes before finally loosing patience. He pressed his audial to the bottom of the vent and listened. No sounds from below. Here was as good as any place.

He twisted and kicked at the metal, slamming the heel of his thruster against the seam where this section of the vent connected to the next.

"C'mon," he snarled, kicking it again, wincing as the clang of metal echoed loudly. "Come-"

The vent dropped and light broke in. Mission slid backwards out of it as it collapsed. His digits scrambled for purchase futilely. He hit the floor with a painful thunk, right on his aft. Wincing, he stood, and took stock of his surroundings.

 _Orange_ walls.

And he'd thought Lockdown's interior design had been flawed.

Now, to locate the bridge.

He hadn't taken a single step when alarm klaxons sounded, the lights shifting to red and flashing. Mission's optimism sunk into dread when the corridor behind him suddenly sealed off with a slam, thick reinforced slabs descending from the ceiling.

Who in the Pit designed the security for this place?!

He ran, dipping into his subspace for his admittedly pathetic variety of protection. He came back out with a servo full of bolts. Useless, he sneered. He rounded the corner, ready to sprint down the next corridor before it sealed off-

-And almost slammed face first into a startled looking Autobot. The Autobot's mouth fell open at the sight of him.

The Bot had a blaster. He hadn't raised it. Yet.

"Who-?"

Mission threw his handful of bolts with force at the Autobot's face. There was a crack of optical glass breaking and the Autobot cried out, reaching to shield his sight a moment too late. Mission rushed him, jumping to gain the height he needed to reach for the blaster.

The Autobot wasn't as useless as he'd predicted though. It span away from him, form flickering with light bending technology. Mission knew he couldn't let the Autobot turn invisible, and pulled out a smoke bomb.

The Autobot was just an outline of silver now, but Mission could still see enough of him to know where he was, and where to tack the smoke bomb. He slapped it onto the Autobot's lower back. It continued to gush smoke, betraying the Autobot's position as he tried to regroup.

This was a spy. Not a front-liner. Not a warrior. And Mission could take him.

He removed the metal pole from his subspace and struck before the Autobot realised he wasn't quite as invisible as he'd thought. He aimed for what he hoped was the back of a knee. A yell. A thunk, as the Autobot dropped. He swung again, for the helm, and the pole shuddered against his palm when it made contact.

He heard something hit the floor strutlessly. The blaster became visible as it clattered across the decking.

Mission scooped it up and continued his run.

He needed to head for the bridge but logic dictated that secure routes had been blocked off by the security measures. He could attempt to reenter the vents, but he couldn't move through them as quickly, and the Autobots knew he was here now. The time for stealth had passed.

He rounded another corner and was nearly shot in the wing. He ducked back, wings hitting the bulkhead, intakes working rapidly. He checked the charge on his stolen blaster, and then stuck an elbow out briefly. A bluff.

Two blasters fired back, their lasers scorching the bulkhead opposite Mission's position.

Two Autobots. Blasters _not_ set to stun. Great.

His last smoke bomb sat in his palm. Thank Primus for Skywarp and his stupid pranks. He activated it and threw it into the corridor. Coughs and curses followed as the corridor filled with thick noxious smoke. What on Cybertron did Skywarp put in those things?

He threw himself into the cover of smoke, olfactory pressed into the crook of his elbow to protect against the smell. The Autobot's penchant for colourful frames were their downfall here. Mission caught a flash of yellow, and fired.

A cry rang out, followed by a gruff yell of, "Bee?!" from right behind Mission.

He span and saw a huge red frame.

Panicked at the close proximity, he fired before aiming. His blaster caught the larger mech in what was likely the shin. A curse and a thunk, and Mission turned tail and ran through the smoke.

The air clearer on the other side, he wiped his stinging optics, squinting. Another turn in the corridor sat ahead of him, and a sign. 'Deck Five: Main Bridge'

All these security measures and the Autobots' undoing was their helpful signage. Mission could have laughed.

He ran towards the corridor, smile pulling at his lips at the first bit of real success-

When a huge flaming axe came down in front of him, imbedding itself in the decking at his pedes and just inches from slicing him clean in half. Life flashing before his optics, he jumped away from the deadly weapon now blocking his path, fumbling with his blaster. It was knocked away easily, slipping from Mission's grip and sliding far across the floor.

"Looks like we've picked up another stowaway," a deep baritone vibrated over Mission's helm, and he looked up.

Up into the masked face of Optimus Prime.

"Oh..." Mission breathed.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ParadiseParrot has done some amazing art of her OC Updraft hanging out with Mission and Thrax. Check it out : https://imgur.com/a/qmfMAn0

"Why haven't we left this Primus-damned slag heap yet?" Megatron bellowed, marching onto the bridge.

Soundwave stood at his usual post, which made the delay all the more unusual.

"Starscream; belayed order to leave." He explained.

" _Starscream_ does not command this ship!" Megatron snarled, stomping toward the command console. "Recall the crew that've wandered off and find Starscream-"

"No need." A scratchy voice drawled behind him.

Megatron scowled at Starscream, irritated with him for a multitude of reasons, but waking up alone most of all. He closed the distance between them, lowering his voice. "And just where did you go last night?"

"To solve our problem," Starscream looked keener and more like himself for the first time since they'd lost their sparklings.

"You've found them?" Megatron breathed, hardly daring to hope-

"Not quite," Starscream purred dangerously, "But I've found two someone's who can tell us just where to look."

 

* * *

 

Thundercracker and Skywarp shoved Jazz and Prowl into the brig. It was dark and musky. Jazz wrinkled he nose at the unpleasant smell.

"Could do with a clean, don't ya think?"

"You volunteering?" Thundercracker pushed him.

Jazz clamped his mouth shut again, letting the seekers guide them through the impractically expansive brig. Jazz didn't know how many prisoners Megatron was expecting to have, but it looked like all the cells had long been vacant.

Probably because Decepticons don't keep prisoners for long, Jazz realised with a sinking feeling.

They passed by another set of cells and Jazz was surprised to glance in and see one occupied.

"...Prowl?" The slouched figured looked up, and _surprise surprise_. It was _Lockdown_.

Jazz groaned.

"Lockdown." Prowl greeted coldly. "I'm sure I have you to thank for this."

"Shut up," Skywarp snapped before Lockdown could respond and dragged Prowl past the cell all the faster. "You too Lockdown!"

As Jazz was pushed on ahead he heard Lockdown call after Prowl, but his voice was soon silenced with a clang of metal on metal. There was a hiss of pain from Lockdown.

"You always beat on your prisoners?" Jazz couldn't help himself.

Thundercracker nudged him in the back with his weapon. "You Autobots don't have the moral high ground on the standard of treatment you give prisoners of war."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He didn't get an answer. Thundercracker and Skywarp shoved him and Prowl into side by side box cells. There was no berth or seat, just a rusty looking upturned crate that looked like it might collapse if he dared sit on it.

"Sit tight." Skywarp offered menacingly as Thundercracker activated the security bars.

The lights flicked to dim as the Decepticons left, and he and Prowl were left in darkness.

"Hey Prowl?" he whispered.

"...Jazz."

"You okay?"

"...What would you conclude given our current situation?"

Good point, Jazz acknowledged silently, and leant back against the least dirty part of the wall. All they could do now was wait.

 

* * *

 

Of all the things to throw his ship into chaos, Optimus hadn't quite been expecting _this_.

The seeker was young, barely reaching his hip. A sparkling on the cusp of adolescence. A runaway perhaps? The Decepticon insignias inconspicuously decorating his fanned wings were scuffed paint, not branded. Not one of Megatron's then. At least, not a warrior. Not yet.

"You look very familiar," said Optimus gently. There was something in the shape of the optics, the nose, the jaw; pieces of someone he should know that had been mixed into a nostalgic puzzle he couldn't quite place. "Have we met?"

The seeker was panting with exertion from his wild romp about the ship, but appeared unharmed. His dark optics were flicking between Optimus and the blaster he'd dropped, like he was calculating the likelihood of reaching it in time.

Still ready to fight his way out, even against a Prime.

Commendable bravery.

"Do you _have_ a designation?" Optimus asked, thinking that may be an easier question to answer.

The sneer on the seeker's face became exaggerated, and now Optimus was _sure_ they knew each other.

"You don't need to know my designation," the seeker announced, nary a shake or stutter of fear to his vocaliser. "I haven't come here to make the acquaintance of Autobot scum."

"Undeniably," Optimus agreed, pointedly considering the insignias on the seeker's wings. "You realise where you are? Who _I_ am?"

"I know who you are, Prime," spat the seeker, "My sire has told me enough."

Optimus tugged his axe out of the decking, making the seeker jump. He ignored the reaction, instead tutting to himself at the deep gouge he had left in the flooring.

"Your _sire_ has?" He asked casually.

The seeker wasn't so easy to ply. He stared into Optimus's optics with more defiance than the hardiest of Decepticons.

"Alright, Decepticon," Optimus relented, "Who sent you and what is your purpose?"

"I'm not a lackey. No one sent me," was hissed at him. "I'm here for my brother."

"Ah," Optimus smiled behind the mask, feeling he knew just who this brother might be. He found some relief in knowing that the Decepticons hadn't yet resorted to youngling spies. Not just yet at least.

"You're in luck. I believe I may I have seen a lost little brother around here somewhere."

The seeker didn't look amused. His stance was still stiff and ready for action. "You would do well to release him into my custody."

Before Optimus could explain to the young seeker that standard protocol didn't usually allow for Decepticons to waltz aboard Autobot flagships and presume to make demands of a Prime, heavy unsteady footfalls came crashing up the corridor.

A furious, dishevelled looking Ironhide appeared around the corner still fogged with smoke, his right leg sparking from where he'd clearly been shot.

Without pause for hesitation his blaster levelled at the seeker with a gruff, "Spy?"

"Sparkling." Optimus corrected, and moved to tilt his friend's barrel away from watching seeker.

"Be jus' like the con's t' use a sparkling." Said Ironhide darkly, "An' this one," he gestured to the seeker, "He ain't so little as the other-"

" _Thank you_ , Ironhide." Optimus said a little more sternly.

"Enough of this!" The seeker yelled, uncaring of threats and blasters and furious enemies as he stamped his thruster. "Where is my brother?!"

Ironhide grunted a soft, "Aw, slag," as he came to the same conclusion Optimus had.

"I will make you an offer." Optimus stated diplomatically, bending at the waist to draw level with the seeker -but reminded himself to keep his distance nonetheless. "I will take you to your brother, _when_ you tell me who your parents are, and where I might be able to find them."

"Why?" The seeker snapped.

"So I know who to call to ensure you're returned safely home."

The seeker scoffed, pulling a smugly sarcastic face, "I can get myself home. They don't need to know either of us was ever here."

Optimus arched a brow at the overconfidence, "If we cannot reach an agreement, I cannot help you."

The seeker's jaw clenched tightly. He seemed to be warring with himself as he tried to think of what to do. Ironhide shared a look with Optimus, as though to say, 'just stick the little monster in the brig and let him stew until it loosens his glossa'.

Ordinarily, Optimus would agree with the typical treatment for disagreeable Decepticons, but he disliked the idea of locking away what was still essentially a sparkling- painted Decepticon insignias be damned.

Besides, it wasn't necessary.  
  
"Fine," it came out as a soft defeated whisper. "The ship is the _Nemesis_. I won't tell you where-"

"Very well," Optimus agreed, knowing he could find the Decepticon flagship regardless. "Your creator?"

He sparkling glared at the floor. "...His name is Starscream."

There was a clatter behind Optimus as Ironhide fumbled with his blaster, cursing.

"And I presume you have a sire?" Optimus said loudly, frowning at Ironhide's language and repressing his own surprise.

The sparkling scrunched up his face and after another moment of deliberation, spat out, "Megatron."

Optimus straightened sharply with a blink. Ironhide made a noise like he had just swallowed his own glossa.

"Ah," Optimus replied stiffly to the sulking sparkling- _Megatron's_ sparkling. "I see..."

He had _thought_ the little one looked familiar.

 

* * *

 

  
It hadn't felt like long before the lights reactivated in the brig. Jazz straightened, pushing off the wall and moving towards the bars, peering down the length of the brig to get a heads up on who was coming for them.

Starscream, and the slagmaker himself, Megatron.

"Brace yourself." He muttered to Prowl in warning.

The two baddest Decepticons in the known galaxy came to a stop before their cells. Both looked ready to do some damage. Megatron stared through the bars at Prowl like he thought he'd been responsible for every inconvenience in his life so far.

He unlocked the security bars.

"You procured intel from the nefarious creature some cells down from you, did you not?" Megatron rasped.

Prowl didn't deny or confirm.

Meagtron didn't appear to need him to. "Where did you take the information?"

Still, Prowl kept stubbornly silent.

Megatron stepped into the cell, huge shoulders rolled to fit in through the opening. Prowl had never looked so fragile next to him. Jazz held his breath, bracing himself for the inevitable violence about to be enacted on his friend.

"For every question do you not answer," Megatron rumbled, looming over Prowl, "Starscream here will tear away a piece of your friend's armour."

The first flicker of emotion crossed Prowl's face. He faltered, mouth opening.

Jazz's dread veered in a whole new direction.

Starscream moved into position outside his cell, optics a fierce crimson red, and for all the hate they held, for one bizarre moment, Jazz was reminded of little Wriggles back on the _Ark_.

"Where did you take it?" Megatron demanded again, and before Prowl even had a chance to answer, Starscream entered Jazz's cell. Jazz tried to back way but there was nowhere to go. Starscream pinned him against the bulkhead and jabbed his deadly claws into his clavicle seam, snapping wires and tearing derma mesh beneath as he yanked.

Jazz clenched his jaw and hissed through the worst of it. But Starscream kept pulling.

"Where did you _leave it?!_ " Megatron demanded, and metal groaned as Starscream went for a larger chunk of his chest armour. Jazz grunted, fingers curling against the cuffs behind his back. "Where is he?"

"He?" Prowl suddenly breathed.

And just as suddenly the claws were out of Jazz's extremities. He exhaled shakily, shutting down the affected sensors before his processor had time to focus on the pain. His self repair got to work on stemming the flow of energon.

"You are not asking about stolen intelligence files." He watched Prowl stand his ground against Megatron. "Are you?"

Starscream was also watching through the bars, attention rapt. Eventually Megatron reached and seized Prowl by the throat, squeezing threateningly. He slammed Prowl against the bulkhead hard enough to shake the entire line of cells.

All pretence gone now, he leant in, snarling. "Where is my son?"

Jazz felt the world shift under his pedes and the planets started spinning in reverse. He thought of lost little Wriggles, his smile and his laugh. The most innocent sparkling he'd ever seen. Bright and happy and friendly. And Megatron.

And _Megatron_ -

And-

He turned slowly to look at Starscream; those glaring optics, angular face, sharp nose-

And _Starscream_.

"You!" He yelled, before he could help himself. His gaze swung between both Decepticons, not knowing which one to focus on. "You made a-"

"He's safe..." Prowl wheezed, before Jazz could get him anymore strangled. Megatron's fist noticeably relaxed to let him speak. "He is uninjured and... in good health."

Jazz, still poleaxed and staring, watched the most amazing transformation happen in front of him. Starscream and Megatron just seemed to deflate before his very optics, claws retracting, fists lowering, Prowl slumping to the floor with a gasp of breath-

Their expressions softened with hope?

"And what of the other one?" Megatron asked.

Jazz blinked, thinking this couldn't get any more confusing. Prowl looked equally as oblivious.

"The other sparkling?" Starscream snarled impatiently when neither of them answered, "The older one?"

"Ya have more than one?!" Jazz yelped, horrified. "There's- ya made _two!_ "

His Decepticon captors did not look pleased with his reaction.

 

* * *

 

Ironhide wasn't as keen on their second Decepticon stowaway as he was their first, but Optimus trusted him above all others to watch the seeker in his absence. The sparkling appeared to be a talented improviser -judging from the easy havoc he'd just created- but an old warrior like Ironhide knew every dastardly trick in the book.

It would take more than smoke bombs to get the better of him.

Optimus left with the promise that he would take the seeker to his brother shortly, but he had other duties to attend to first.

Bumblebee had been shot in the chest- which was more due to his short stature than it was to the seeker's aim. Optimus didn't want to believe that someone so young would be so willing to kill.

Bumblebee was fine besides. The bolt having grazed his armour as he'd turned, scorching his chest but otherwise leaving him relatively unharmed. Ratchet was just finishing up on him when Optimus arrived in the med bay.

Mirage wasn't so lucky.

His left leg hung limp and a huge dent had crumpled the side of his helm. He was squinting up at Optimus sulkily.

"Prime," he lowered his helm in deference, wincing as the movement caused pain. "What was that? Did you catch it?"

"We did." Optimus reassured, settling a servo on Mirage's shoulder comfortingly.

"Did you kill the fraggin' thing?" Ratchet asked harshly, scowling as he came forward with some strong sensor blockers for Mirage. "A couple pounds more pressure and Mirage's processor would have been scrap."

It was a nasty hit. Optimus grimaced at the extent of the damage.

"It was another Decepticon youngling." He admitted.

Ratchet froze in his work. Mirage blinked.

"M' glitching again," Mirage said wearily, "I thought you said-"

"He did say it." Ratchet growled, dropping his tool and staring at Optimus. "A youngling?!"

His tone was filled with disbelief. He gestured to Mirage's helm angrily, "You're telling me a youngling took out-"

"I am." Optimus interrupted. "He has been apprehended. There is no need to worry any further."

Mirage was shaking his helm, despite the ache it must have been causing. "No. No, it was a- it was- he moved so fast."

Optimus patted his shoulder again. "Patch him up, Ratchet. I'll need you to tend to Ironhide later."

"'Hide?" Ratchet's optics flared even brighter. "What the pit happened to him?!"

"It's as Mirage says, Ratchet. The youngling was very fast."

 

* * *

 

Mission spent a tense hour in a locked, disused office with the old red Autobot the Prime had called Ironhide. A sizeable weapon was charged and left on the desk, just waiting to be fired if he so much as inched towards the doorway.

Mission didn't make any attempts to escape anyway. He wasn't stupid enough to make his move before he was reunited with Thrax.

Finally Prime returned, waving for him to follow. Ironhide came with them, like Prime _needed_ a decrepit bodyguard. 

For a mech his sire had always labelled a soft sparked fool, Optimus Prime looked more than capable of putting the fear of his namesake into any mech. He was as tall as his sire, and as broad in the shoulders. His battle mask was covered in scratches and scuffs, and despite his colourful Autobot bodywork, Mission spied some ugly looking welds from wounds too deadly to heal themselves.

Mission wondered how many of them his sire had been responsible for.

"So, Megatron eh?"

Mission turned to give the limping Ironhide a withering look. "Do you have a question or has my parentage only just sunk in?"

Ironhide laughed heartily. Maybe his blaster wound had disoriented him, "You're a little slagger, ya know that?"

"'Hide," Prime's ominous baritone warned from upfront. Ironhide fell silent instantly, the amusement wiped from his face.

Mission wondered how the Prime could get so much authority into such an even-toned reprimand. Sire had to scream himself hoarse to get most of the Decepticons to behave. His creator and himself included.

"Your brother favours him." Prime turned his helm, optics bright swirling blue.

Mission blinked, "What?"

"Starscream." Prime elaborated, and the plates around his optics crinkled as though he was smiling. "I always thought Megatron was soft on his seekers..."

"Sire has never been soft on anyone." Mission interjected angrily, annoyed at the idea of Prime understanding his sire on any personal level. Like they were old friends and not mortal enemies. "Least of all my creator."

Prime and Ironhide seemed to share a look over his helm, one of hidden amusement. Mission felt his energon boil.

"Whatever," he snarled, deciding to think of Thrax again to lighten his mood. He'd see him soon. Then everything was going to be okay.

"In here," Prime gestured. "This is our Recreational room."

Mission moved towards the door as it opened, eager to see his brother, but Prime held him back- a huge servo engulfing his shoulder. Very much like sire's.

"Sideswipe," Prime spoke into the room. "The security breach has been dealt with. And our stowaway has a visitor."

Prime gave Mission a nudge between the wings. He scowled, ready to snarl that the Prime should keep his filthy Autobot servos to himself, when he looked into the _Ark's_ rec room.

In the arms of a glossy red mech, sat his brother.

"Thrax..." Mission breathed in relief, a huge weight lifting off his shoulders.

His brother turned at the sound of his voice. Their gazes locked, then Thrax was screaming in joyful excitement.

The Autobot holding his brother didn't appear to appreciate that, struggling to keep hold of his squirming bundle, "Hey, what-?!"

Mission shrugged Prime's servo off his shoulder and darted into the room. Thrax waved his arms in uncontrollable excitement. The Autobot, at a loss for what else to do, bent and let Mission manoeuvre him out of his servos.

Mission held his brother close, tucking his tiny helm under his nose and breathing him in like his creator would if they'd been separated. Thax still smelt like Starscream, the same polish anyway, and it was one of few comforts here, prisoner on the Autobot ship.

He could hear the Autobot's murmuring behind him, voices low. They were likely plotting what to do to with them. Mission ignored them for now, focusing on Thrax. There were no injuries, and not much had changed in the last few days they'd been separated, save for the splattering of colour growing on his brother's wing nubs and thrusters. Silvery glossy white, like their creator.

Perhaps Thrax really did favour him after all.

"-Prime!?" The Autobot that had been holding his brother was speaking. He sounded and looked younger than his comrades. Mission had been beginning to think all the Autobots were dilapidated old husks like his sire. "-going on? Who- that's a Decepticon?!"

He said it with considerable disgust. Had Mission not been holding his brother, he would have acted on his offence.

"By our understanding our two guests are brothers, Sideswipe," Prime said easily, without distaste. He was good at shielding his emotions, Mission decided. "Megatron and Starscream's little ones."

Mission had never seen someone's jaw hang so wide. For a moment he thought the mech, Sideswipe, had malfunctioned. "... _Screamer's_ kids?"

"You'll do well to refer to my creator with some respect," Mission snapped, trying to look intimidating as he juggled his handsy brother, struggling to keep his wings out of sticky hands.

"I thought Screamer had left the Cons?" Sideswipe was saying to Prime as though Mission wasn't there. "Vorns ago, didn't he? Megatron had a bounty on him?!"

"The issue was resolved!" Mission raised his voice.

"Resolved," Ironhide snorted, amused. "That how your brother turned up?"

Mission didn't get the joke. He held Thrax tighter, indignant.

"So... This is what the Decepticons have been up to?" Sideswipe lowered his voice, but it wasn't enough of a whisper that Mission couldn't hear him. "... _increasing numbers?"_

"Screamer has!" Ironhide laughed again.

Mission looked for somewhere to put his brother down so he could kick the old mech's face in.

"Regardless," Prime interrupted the laugher seriously. "We do not make prisoners of sparklings. Nor do we use them for military gain. The Decepticons will have to be contacted-"

"You're just giving them back?" Sideswipe sounded disappointed. "Maybe they'd be better off here. Well, the little one, I mean-"

"No!" Mission yelled, spark dropping at the thought of his brother being stolen from him again. "I won't let you-"

"I assure you," Prime held out a servo. "I will not let that happen. I will make contact with Megatron myself."

And tell his sire the whole damnable tale, Mission realised with mounting dread.

Megatron would be furious with him, he realised. For losing Thrax, for being captured by the Autobots, for being unable to get himself out of it. Starscream had masterminded hundreds of prison breaks; his sire too had never been held captive for long.

How could he ever expect to be taken seriously as a Decepticon, as Megatron's heir, if he just bounced from kidnapping to kidnapping?

"Come," Prime gestured for him to follow, "and we will find you somewhere comfortable to rest until we can arrange for your safe return."

Mission thought about disobeying, but early compliance would gain their trust faster. And make later escape easier. He shifted Thrax and began to follow, scowling angrily when Sideswipe reached to help him with his brother.

He wasn't going to suffer the embarrassment of being rescued by Megatron. Not again.

It was time he proved to his parents he was more than capable of looking after himself.

* * *

 

  
Megatron rolled off him with a great huff of breath, vents hissing as they expelled heated air. Starscream laid where he was, joints aching too much from having just borne the brunt of Megatron's frustrations to move.

"That didn't make me feel any better," Megatron rumbled beside him, still miserable.

"Oh, _great,"_ Starscream panted, struggling to catch his breath. He pushed himself upright to stare down at him. "All that for nothing-"

Megatron at least looked a little guilty. "I appreciated the effort..."

Starscream moved to lie next to him, their frames flush. A big arm came around his back and tugged him closer, till he was lying half across Megatron, one leg hooked over him.

"You're overthinking." Starscream told him.

Megatron scowled at the ceiling and shook his helm. "Just impatient."

"How long until we're within range of the _Ark's_ comm frequency?"

"That would rely on how truthful our prisoners are." Megatron growled, "Soundwave will hail me the moment he picks up their signal."

"Then you should recharge," Starscream suggested, "How will you properly intimidate Prime if you look like you're about to pass out?"

Megatron rolled his optics. "It takes very little to intimidate Prime."

Starscream wasn't able to stifle his snort. He covered his mouth to hide his smile. Megatron's gaze snapped his way, annoyed.

"You're laughing at me."

Starscream shook his helm.

"You are." Megatron growled, shifting his weight onto his forearm, bearing down on him.

Starscream found himself rolling back across the berth, servos pushing as Megatron came and climbed over him again. "Well, if you wouldn't make it so _easy_ -"

He broke off with a pathetic little moan when Megatron's digits dug into the hinges of his wings. He arched his back, cockpit bumping Megatron's chest.

"Not laughing now, are you?" Megatron growled, armour still hot, knees nudging Starscream's thighs apart. "Let me in-"

"Again?" Starscream's panel propped without protest, but he sighed in exasperation. "What are you trying to do. Spark me again-?"

He felt Megatron slide in -his valve fluttering open receptively to accept him- and he purred as Megatron began a languid gentle pace, something to match the lateness of the hour. It was good. So good Starscream could almost forget his worries. Could lie back and let his world shrink to little more than just this moment.

Megatron breathed three words into his audial as he finished, hips stuttering. Starscream knocked their helms together affectionately, spark so weak and pining that not even embarrassment could stop him from saying it back.

"I love you more," he murmured, nuzzling upwards; at least trying to make it sound like a competition.

Megatron only laughed and kissed him. "Well, that's impossible..."

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Ironhide didn't recall volunteering for sparkling-sitting duty. Funny how everyone who'd been fighting for a slice of time with the little bitlet earlier had scarpered now.

"I would rather be chained to the walls of your brig," the 'Mini-Megatron' sneered as he paced the more than sufficient room Prime had found for their Decepticon guests. "It would be a preferable suffering to the helmache these orange bulkheads are giving me."

Oh, yeah. _That_ was why no one wanted to sparkling-sit anymore.

"There ain't no chains in the brig." Ironhide snorted, "And what's wrong with the bulkheads? Ya brother don't mind."

Thrax (formerly Wriggles) was rather content despite the clear frustration of his elder brother. He was busy chewing a plastic ball to death on the floor in the far-far corner his brother had placed him in. Ironhide couldn't help but notice it was as far from where he was positioned as he could possibly be.

"His optics haven't developed enough to see the obnoxiousness of your interior decor for what it is."

Ironhide was unable to keep the smirk off his face. He huffed a quiet laugh.

'Mini-Megatron's' helm snapped in his direction, "Something amusing you?"

"Just the novelty of a pint sized Megatron that sounds like Screamer," Ironhide shrugged.

Servos balled into angry fists. "Pint sized?!"

In the corner Thrax dropped his ball to squeal excitedly as he watched his brother begin squaring up against their guard.

"Ain't I too big for you to be starting a fight with?" Ironhide asked curiously, refusing to give ground to what had to be the angriest little seeker he had ever seen -regardless of how much coding it shared with Megatron. "Your creator never teach you a sense of self-preservation?"

"He taught me to fear nothing."

"Yeah, I bet he did." Ironhide rumbled darkly, but when he stepped out of the tiny section of the room he'd allocated himself. The seeker flinched violently, hopping back and planting himself directly in front of his younger brother.

Ironhide froze, lifting one open servo, palm out, like he was approaching a wounded animal.

"It's alrigh'," he said gently, annoyed at himself for not realising that a lot of this attitude was just a front. Decepticon or not - _Megatron's offspring_ or not- he was just a sparkling trapped on an enemy ship. Of course he was scared.

The seeker, Mission, Ironhide remembered him telling them his designation, didn't seem to buy it. "Stay away from him."

"Alright," Ironhide shook him helm. "Won't touch him. But it's late. Ya need to put him down-"

"You expect us to recharge here?" Mission snarled angrily. "It's likely we wouldn't wake up  at all."

Ironhide squinted at him, wondering what the Pit those Con's were teaching their little ones about Autobots.

"We're not- what do we look like? Scraplets? Didn't ya hear Prime? We don't hurt sparklings-"

"I'm not a sparkling though, am I?" Mission snapped, a little self deluded. "And as a Decepticon prisoner-"

"Ya ain't a real Decepticon." Ironhide snorted.

The fury on the little one's face was impressive. "I am so!"

"Are not." Ironhide smirked, just to see if he was immature enough to argue.

"Am so!"

Definitely a sparkling.

Thrax started making annoyed noises in the background. He threw his toy ball away from himself, drawing their attention. His big optics blinked slowly. He looked at his elder brother and mumbled sadly.

"He's tired." Ironhide announced, fairly sure that was the problem. He moved to take a step. "You want me-?"

"No!" Mission shouted. No volume control this one. "Don't touch him."

Ironhide moved back into his little space beside the door and watched as Mission went to pick his brother up. He kept one optic on him the whole time, not trusting him not to attack when his back was turned. Thrax was just as handsy with his bother as he was with everyone else that dared held him. Chubby fingers reached behind and starting pulling on wings.

Mission winced but didn't stop him, too busy glaring at Ironhide as he moved to the berth.

"We made him a crib," Ironhide gestured to the furniture in question against the bulkhead. Mission glared at it distastefully.

"He stays with me."

Ironhide watched him lower his brother to the berth. Thrax didn't seem to understand that meant he had to let go. His surprisingly strong little digits curled and tightened. Mission, bent at the waist, tried and failed to tug him free.

"Thrax!"

An angry shout was his response. The sparkling wasn't letting go.

Ironhide shifted his footing, forward facing so it didn't look like he was watching out of the corner of his optic. The struggle continued for some time, until finally, Mission accepted defeat and climbed into the berth alongside him.

The two of them curled around each other beneath a tangled sheet of insulation. Thrax sucked absently on his brother's fingers as he drifted off. Mission glared over the top of him at their guard.

Ironhide ignored it, knowing all he had to do was wait.

Mission's blinks grew longer, his glare losing it's edge.

Ten minutes later, and they were both asleep.

Ironhide shifted quietly towards them, gripping the edge of the messy berth sheet and gently shaking it out over their frames, tucking it in. Thrax stirred, whimpering, and Mission subconsciously responded by curling tighter around him.

He wondered if they had anyone to do this for them at home. He couldn't imagine Megatron and Starscream taking time off from warfare and devastation to put their kids to sleep.

He snorted at himself, annoyed.

He had no right getting so sappy over Decepticon munchkins.

* * *

 

"I mean, we pretty much knew you'd screwed us the second we opened that crate," Jazz said, loud enough for Lockdown to hear a few cells down. "But _Megatron's sparklings_ , man? That's a special kinda stupid."

"Quit whining," echoed back at him through the brig from wherever Lockdown was.

Jazz snorted and shared a look with Prowl through the cell bars. "Easy for him. He wasn't tortured-"

"Are you alright?" Prowl asked softly, his usually stoic expression folded into concern. "Jazz, I-"

"Jus' a couple superficial scratches," Jazz shrugged, even though the movement hurt. "Wasn't your fault. It was his!" He raised his voice so Lockdown could hear again.

"-told ya, shut up-!"

"He has a point, Jazz," Prowl said seriously. "Don't give them another excuse to hurt you."

"They'll keep it tame." Jazz reassured him. "If they wanna trade us they've gotta keep us at least semi-functional."

"Prime will return the sparkling regardless of whether-"

"Shh," Jazz waved his servos, "They don't know that."

"Two high ranking officers for one new-spark hardly seems a logical trade." Prowl mused, frowning. "Particularly when they already have one spare..."

Sometimes Jazz wondered what planet Prowl was from. Or if he'd just been fighting Decepticons for so long that he'd forgotten they were beings capable of thought and feelings beyond destruction and hate.

"Wriggles is their sparkling, Prowl."

"I am aware."

"I mean, it'd be a safe bet to say they love him, don't you think?"

Prowl was frowning at Jazz. "Statistically speaking it is more likely Megatron chose to procreate with Starscream in order to create a physically and intellectually superior heir to lead the faction in their-"

"Turn off your tactical computer, man," Jazz wanted to reach through the energy bars and nudge him. "Wriggles look like a ' _superior Decepticon killing machine_ ' to you?"

Prowl scowled, "What other reason could they possibly have for creating a sparkling? Two, no less?"

Down the cells, Lockdown's filthy laugh could be heard. "Don't need a reason if they were accidents, Prowler!"

Prowl's optics flickered with surprise. Jazz smiled at him. "Yeah, I think Lockdown's gotta point there, don't you?"

 

* * *

 

When Soundwave pinged Megatron's comm some hours into the recharge cycle there might have been a less than dignified scramble to extract themselves from the berth -and each other- in their rush to get to the bridge.

Megatron realised, when Starscream pushed him and sent him crashing into the bulkhead, that they were also apparently racing _each other_ to reach the long distance comm first.

"Starscream!" He yelled when they both ran to enter the bridge at the same time and became stuck in the doorway.

A wriggle and a kick, and Starscream managed to fall out ahead of him. Megatron stumbled, then rushed to catch up as Starscream reached Soundwave first.

"You found them?"

"Negative." Soundwave intoned, and gestured to the red flashing light above the comm console. "The Autobots have found us. Call incoming."

Starscream sat himself in front of the console, clawed digit stabbing the 'accept call' button. Megatron reached him just as the screen switched to static as it began stabilising their video connection with the _Ark_.

He shoved the side of Starscream's chair and sent it zooming away on it's wheels, the seeker swearing loudly as was rudely shunted out of range of the pickup.

"Megatron." Prime's baritone rumbled just as Megatron straightened into an appropriately menacing stance in front of the screen. "It has been a-"

"I have two of your officers in my brig, Prime!" Megatron snarled, wanting to throw in his demands first. "You'd be wise to skip the pleasantries should you want them to remain intact."

Whatever Prime had been about to say seemed to catch in his vocaliser. A crease marred his brow, "Ah, I see..."

Just out of the range of the pickup, Starscream was back, attempting to communicate silently with animated gestures and obnoxious mouthing. Megatron's optic twitched as he struggled to ignore him and concentrate on bending Prime to his demands.

"I've come to understand one of my own has fallen into your fold." He growled.

Prime was glaring at him, "You'd be correct. Megatron, there is no need for these hostilities. Release my officers and-"

"And allow you and your Autobots to galavant off into the stars with my- with one of my Decepticons? I think not, Prime."   
  
"Megatron please," Prime pressed, leaning towards the camera. "Listen to reason. I have no intention of turning this into a ransom exchange. There's no need to add any more unnecessary stress to this situation-"

"Do you think me a fool, Optimus Prime?!" Megatron snarled, insulted. "I'm not-"

What would have been a formidable threat was interrupted by a shove from his side. He found himself stumbling sideways, out of the camera pickup, as a furious Starscream took his place, wings hiked high and clawed digit pointed.

"Where the Pit is my sparkling, Prime!"

Prime blinked with surprise at Starscream's sudden appearance, but appeared to recover quickly, murmuring a mechanical, "Hello Starscream-" before he was cut off again.

"For every minute my sparkling is not brought in front of this screen I will tear a limb off your scrapheap officers and wave it in front of you!" Starscream yelled, energon flushing his face. " _Now_ , Prime!"

"Calm yourself, Starscream," Prime lifted a pacifying servo. "Your sparklings are recharging-"

"They'll recharge when they're safe in my arms, Prime. Now!" Starscream continued to yell.

But Megatron heard something Starscream hadn't. He nudged himself back into the pickup, ignoring Starscream's frustrated shove when they brushed shoulders.

"Sparkling _s?_ " He asked.

Starscream stopped shoving him. His optics snapping to the screen as well.

Mission was with them too.

"I'll have them brought up to the bridge," Prime finally agreed, making optical contact with someone beyond the camera pickup and giving them a nod. "They will be here soon. You'll be pleased to hear they're in perfect health."

Relief bloomed in Megatron's chest. He wanted to slump forwards and breathe a prayer of thanks, but not with Prime watching so closely, studying them for weaknesses. He didn't need his enemy realising how incalculably valuable they were to him.

"- must enquire as to the health of my own mechs." Prime was still speaking.

"They're fine!" Starscream snapped, even though they weren't _really_ fine. They'd need a medic likely. But they'd live.

"They will be returned to you as whole and healthy as your own prisoners." Megatron growled.

"We do not take sparklings prisoners, Megatron." Prime said dangerously. "The smallest was _found_ -"

A growl worked it's way out of Megatron's chest, "Taken."

"That wasn't my understanding."

"What are trying to imply?" Starscream hissed low and dangerously. "If your officers hadn't been trading with immoral scum like Lockdown-"

"And how did your sparkling come to be in Lockdown's possession if you were not doing the same?" Prime asked smugly.

Starscream looked like he was about to leap up and punch the screen. Megatron seized his wrist and pulled him back. "You've baited my second enough, Prime. If you're quite finished insulting my factions care-taking protocols, Starscream would like to see his sons."

"Yes, _Starscream's."_ One of Prime's brows quirked on screen. Dread filled Megatron's chest at that look.

He knew.

Whatever know-it-all thing Prime might have said to prove how clever he was in having learnt the full parentage of the sparklings he held, was cut off by the noise in the background.

Megatron heard indistinct speaking, a deep gruff murmur, and growing wails. A new-spark's wails.

Prime moved out of shot briefly, and Megatron felt Starscream's clawed servo find his forearm and squeeze. Finally Prime appeared again, this time holding something grey and white and very noisy to his windscreen. He settled back into his seat and an exhausted, sobbing Thrax appeared with him.

"Thrax," Starscream breathed, among various other uncharacteristically indulgent comforting noises. Megatron would have cringed at the un-Decepticon like cooing, had he not felt so overwhelmingly compelled to do the same.

On screen, Thrax's cries subsided as he recognised his creator's voice. His legs and arms waved as he searched the room for Starscream, making confused noises.

Prime twisted him to face the camera, bringing him closer. Megatron watched Starscream smile with a brightness and warmth he didn't think he'd ever seen before. Thrax whined and made grabby hands at the camera. Starscream stepped closer, like he wanted to reach for him.

Megatron wished he could break through the screen and take him back. There was something harrowing about seeing his sparkling in the arms of Prime, no matter how gently he held him.

He wanted to thunder something threatening, to counterbalance Starscream's complete abandonment of intimidation in favour of cooing to their sparkling. He was interrupted before he could think of anything decent to say when the speakers picked up noise beside the console.

Mission was nudged into view.

"Sire?" He blinked slowly, like he'd just been just asleep and couldn't quite figure out where he was, or what was going on.

"It's alright, Mission," he rumbled gently, forgetting that he was supposed to be the intimidating one. "We're coming to get you."

Mission's face didn't break into a relieved smile- but then he hardly ever smiled. He looked between his brother and the screen, appearing conflicted.

"It's alright." Megatron told him again, deciding not reveal the extent of how much trouble he was going to be in until he got home. "Don't be frightened."

"I'm not frightened!" Mission suddenly shouted, chest puffing out,

Megatron couldn't help his smirk. That was the son he knew and loved.

"How soon can you be prepared to exchange prisoners?" He rumbled at Prime.

Prime looked annoyed, but that might have been because he was suddenly having to field Thrax's attempts at yanking on his windshield wipers.

"I will have my mechs locate a suitable exchange point." Prime said, wincing as his wiper was twisted. Megatron could hear it creaking. Thrax stuck his glossa out as he concentrated.

"See that you do." Megatron murmured, not missing how Mission looked at him. His expression was unreadable.

All that needed to be said to Prime, had been said.

But he didn't want to disconnect the feed.

"Call again if you need to." Prime said, rather generously. His digit was poised over the 'end call' control, but he didn't seem to have the conviction to press it. Thrax was still blabbing to Starscream happily as he yanked on Prime's wiper.

Megatron nodded, reaching to take Starscream's servo out of view of the pickup.

Starscream waved an indulgent goodbye to Thrax, and Thrax released Prime to wave one back. Mission looked miserable.

"Behave yourself." Starscream looked at Mission intently, "Look after your brother."

"Megatron." Prime said, nodding.

And the screen switched to black.

Starscream slumped forward and braced himself against the console, helm bowed between his shoulders.

"Soundwave." Megatron ordered. "See to it that our prisoners are repaired and in full working order. Prime has accepted them as suitable ransoms for exchange."

"Acknowledged." Soundwave bowed, and seeing they needed a moment of themselves, left his commanders on the bridge.

Megatron threw an arm over Starscream's shoulders and tugged him into an awkward half-embrace. "They're alright, Starscream."

There was a stiff nod, then Starscream straightened, expression hard and stoic once again. "I'm worried."

"I know-"

"No." Starscream interrupted, "Did you see Mission? I'm worried."

"He's a youngling," Megatron reassured him, even though his own spark swelled in sympathy. "Fear is natural. He is being held by the enemy."

Starscream shook his helm, scratching at his chin in thought. "No. He's planning something."

"It's more likely he's simply rehearsing a believable excuse for how this entire debacle happened." Megatron growled. "With a spin that could put the Autobot Council's PR team to shame."

Starscream hummed, still not entirely convinced. "Perhaps that's all it is..."

After all, Megatron thought, it wasn't like the little idiot would try and escape when he knew his parents were coming for him. Would he?

 

* * *

 

He hadn't recharged a full night in days, but after being rudely woken in the middle of the night by the Autobots and paraded in front of his obviously horrified parents, somehow, despite the exhaustion, Mission just didn't feel like going back to sleep. If the Autobots were trying to flaunt their victory, they were doing so too soon.

He wasn't out of this yet.

Ironhide and three other mechs escorted them back to the room Prime had given him and his brother. They walked behind, beside, and in front of him. They weren't going to underestimate him again it seemed.

When they reached the room it was just Ironhide again. After some negotiation the Autobot took the already dozing Thrax. Mission wished he could be so carefree he could just fall asleep in the middle of a crisis.

Ironhide placed his blaster down on one of the highest shelves, high enough that Mission wouldn't be able to reach it unaided, and unsubspaced the cube he was supposed to fuel Thrax with. Thrax wasn't always the most cooperative fueler when he was tired, so Ironhide took his optics off Mission as he concentrated on him.

Mission took the opportunity to survey the room.

It was one of the standard habitation suites. No view ports, no vents. Just four bulkheads, a solid floor, one berth, and no furniture substantial enough to be used as a weapon against a mech of Ironhide's size.

The only way in or out was through the door, and that was sealed with a computerised lock. Not a problem for him, but the panel was screwed down tight with a blast proof cover. It looked new. They'd obviously done it just for him.

Great.

"Will ya- stop fusing ya-" Ironhide was grumbling as he struggled to stop Thrax from turning his helm and yelling nonsensically.

Mission watched him rub one of his optics with the heel of his servo, much like sire did when he grew tired.

Much like sire... who more often that not, bored _himself_ to recharge when he was trying to get Thrax off to sleep.

"You should talk to him." Mission offered.

Ironhide grunted, looking up, "Huh?"

"My creator talks to him. Regales old tales of war sometimes." Mission shrugged, "It distracts him. Makes it easier to fuel him."

"Hmm," Ironhide looked down at the fidgeting sparkling. "Screamer tells stories, huh?"

" _Tales of war_." Mission glared. "History."

Ironhide chuckled, "Ya heard the one about the seeker an' the cyber-snake?"

Mission had actually, but that was beside the point. "Don't you Autobots have your own tales to tell? Surely, you've had some victories in the last four million years?"

Ironhide huffed, but looked properly motivated to finally give in. "I don't know what ya sire's been telling ya, but he's a fraggin' liar. Off the top of my helm I can count dozens of times he's been knocked on his aft."

Mission declined to say that he knew hundreds- as he had heard these stories from Starscream after all. 

"Earth? That was a disaster. It was like he _wanted_ to lose, lemme tell ya. And it wasn't just him, it was like ya whole damn faction was on the funny-fuel. Never seen such a haphazard-"

Mission nodded, letting Ironhide talk, and talk. In his arms Thrax was fuelling, his optics growing heavy.

Fortunately Ironhide was very old, and had a lot of history to run through. It wasn't until he left the subject of Earth and became melancholy that he began to slow, tiredness settling in. Thrax recharging against his chest, vents slow and even, seemed to help too.

"Then what happened?" Mission asked for the hundredth time. Ironhide began to slump.

"Then..." Ironhide grumbled, helm back and optics shuttering like a weathered grandsire at the end of his days. "We saw the... Andromeda galaxy... You'd like it. Even a Decepticon'd like it...."

"And then?" Mission whispered.

"Hmm." Ironhide said wordlessly, his intakes slowing and increasing airflow.

Mission waited.

"...Autobot?"

Ironhide didn't rouse.

"Ironhide?" Mission tired again, a little louder.

A loud snore was his answer.

"Excellent." Mission jumped down from the berth and approached the sleeping Autobot. Thrax was nestled pretty securely in his arms, but Mission wasn't going anywhere without him.

"Thrax," he whispered, and cautiously poked his little brother's nose.

Thrax's face wrinkled. He made a soft noise of irritation.

"Thrax, c'mon. Wake up." He poked him again. Big optics onlined and flickered, before narrowing and closing again. "Thrax. Don't you want to go home? Back to Starscream?"

Thrax's optics onlined again, a curious look on his face. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

Mission climbed the back of Ironhide's seat, stretching until he was within reach of the blaster secured on the top shelve. He hoped down lightly. Thrax squeaked.

"Shh," Mission hushed him, and began shifting Ironhide's grip from his brother. But with every movement, no matter how small, Ironhide's grip instinctively tightened.

With a frustrated exhale Mission set the blaster on full charge and aimed it at Ironhide's helm. Better he be dead than raise the alarm.

Thrax's huge optics stared at him. The weapon felt heavy. 

Mission lowered the blaster, disgusted with himself. This Autobot meant nothing to him. His death would _benefit_  his parent's cause. Sparing him was no achievement. 

"You're making me sentimental." He whispered to Thrax, and offlined the blaster. This time as he worked to free his brother from Ironhide's arms, he used the blaster itself to ward off his tighening grip. He swapped the weapon for his brother. Thrax was so small and lightweight that the difference was unnoticeable.

He lifted Thrax to chest, and Ironhide stirred, arms tightening around his blaster.

"There," he smiled at his brother. "Easy enough."

Thrax made a mumbled noise of disagreement and pointed to the door, as if to say, 'not that easy.'

"It'll be fine." Mission murmured, hitching Thrax higher and moving to the door panel. He tried prising it open, punching it, but it was firm to the wall. If he had the blaster he could shoot it off. He glanced back at Iornhide; snoring like a chainsaw, blaster hugged to his chest.

He wasn't getting that back anytime soon.

"Come on," he muttered, running his digits along the casing, looking for something to grip and pull.

He wasn't at all helped by Thrax grabbing and getting in the way. He went to brush his brother aside, when Thrax curled his tiny but strong digits around the corner of the casing and pulled. There was a groan. A snap.

Thrax squawked victoriously, waving the destroyed casing around and almost smacking Mission in the helm with it.

"How did-" astonished, Mission caught the casing and prised it out of his brother's grip, shushing him.

"I loosened it for you." He mumbled.

Thrax made a low noise of disagreement.

Maybe his younger brother did have an exceptional talent for destroying things, but Mission was still smarter. The panel now open to him, he began breaking and reconnecting wires. Within seconds the door slipped open silently on it's well oiled track.

Thrax 'woo'ed' in amazement, clapping once.

Mission mock bowed. "I know I know." He breathed. Stepping out into the freedom of the corridor. "I'm a genius."

 

* * *

 

  
By Soundwave's calculations if both the _Nemesis_ and the _Ark_ were flying at full speed they should meet somewhere in the Tryros sector. Megatron said he didn't mind flying in a straight line through an asteroid field to get there all the faster -even if it did mean a few rocks got through the shielding and scraped the hull.

On the bridge, Starscream heard another one catch the ship beneath with a long painful noise of rendering metal, and caught Megatron's grimace. He said he didn't mind, but Starscream couldn't help but think every scratch the _Nemesis_ earned spelled another weeks worth of punishment Mission was going to get when Megatron finally got his servos on him.

Primus he missed them.

"I'm raising the _Ark_ again." He said, pushing his swivel chair along the floor in the direction of the communication console.

"Starscream." Megatron reproached from above, on the top deck. He glared down at him. "Prime doesn't need to know how much they mean to you. Don't give him reason to press for more ransom."

"If he wants more, we'll give him more," Starscream snapped, already tapping in the frequency.

"Yes," Megatron looked annoyed, "But he doesn't need to know that."

Starscream ignored him and his delicate ego. He didn't care what Prime thought of them. Prime didn't have sparklings. Prime couldn't possibly overestimate the value of what he currently kept captive on his ship.

If Prime wanted every drop of fuel they had, he could have it. If Prime wanted the very ship they lived on, he could have it. There was nothing Starscream wouldn't give to have them back.

The console started to ring. Hearing the ping of the communication signal, Megatron began to make his way down from the top deck, still unhappy, but not so much that he would pass on another opportunity to see their sparklings.

It continued to ring as Megatron came to stand beside him.

"Does it normally take this long for them to answer?" He asked.

He looked at Megatron. And the frown on his face said it all.

The comm rang out. The screen flashing with 'call failed'.

"Try again." Megatron left his side.

"Where are you going?" Starscream asked, reentering the frequency. He felt sick to his tanks.

"To arm the guns." Megatron growled.

 

* * *

 

  
The alarm klaxons were blaring, the ships engines were dead, and everything was lit red with the emergency lighting. Optimus knew all this the moment he came out of recharge.

He sat up, and was assaulted with message after message on his comm. Red Alert spamming him. Ironhide spamming him. Everyone else... panicking.

There was only one logical explanation.

Megatron's sparklings were loose on his ship.

And they were wrecking havoc.

 


	8. Chapter 8

"Look!" Red Alert yelled, gesturing to the devastation that had once been the security hub as though Optimus couldn't already see for himself what had happened with his own optics.

"Yes. Most troublesome." He agreed, picking up a handful of smashed control keys from the floor. It looked like Mission -after he and his brother had broken out of their room and escaped a (sleeping) Ironhide- had seen fit to destroy the technology that had hindered him during his first romp through the ship.

"Is he still onboard?" Ratchet snapped, yanking Red Alert from his attempt at glitching himself into stasis. "Red! Have they left the ship?!"

Red Alert picked himself up from where he'd been helplessly trying to sort through frayed and torn wires. "Yes. Yes, they are."

"You're sure?" Optimus confirmed, hoping to Primus Megatron was still some hours away. He looked at the offline monitors. "How would you know?"

"I'm still getting pinged with damage alerts from the equipment he's breaking!" Red Alert said somewhat hysterically. "Even if I could reboot the system, he's taking out all the cameras-!"

"Right now?" Ratchet snapped, "Where in the ship?"

"It's too late." Red Alert bemoaned. "He's destroyed everything-"

"I don't care about the cameras, I'm talking about the sparklings!" Ratchet bellowed. "Where are the last cameras that little monster destroyed? That's where they'll be."

"Deck one, outside the engine room." Red Alert explained, somehow un-intimidated by Ratchet's shouting. "But he'll have-"

"-not gotten far." Optimus interrupted, opening his comm and hailing the crew as a whole. " _Autobots, converge on the engine room. Block all known exits and guard the security corridors. Apprehend the sparklings without injury."_

"What reason could he have for escaping?" He turned to Ratchet. "He knows he's going home safely. Why would he sabotage his own return?"

Ratchet shrugged, fairly unfazed. "Probably the Screamer in him."

Optimus really couldn't argue against that logic.

 

* * *

 

"We're going to attack the _Ark_?" Thundercracker gawped. "With the sparklings _on it?"'_

"No," Starscream ground his denta together, "We're going to threaten to attack them until they hand them over, and-"

" _Then_ we attack them!" Skywarp finished excitedly.

"Precisely."

"Starscream," Thundercracker looked exasperated. "What happened to the 'peaceful exchange' you just arranged? Did Megatron lose his temper again?"

"This isn't Megatron's fault!" Starscream snapped, feeling oddly defensive of his partner today. "The Autobots aren't answering our hails. Something has gone wrong. Or they're plotting-"

"I don't think we should greet them with hostiles." Thundercracker was shaking his helm. "Tell Megatron to stand down. He listens to you; sometimes. If this gets ugly, Starscream..."

He trailed off, and Starscream knew what he was thinking. If things took a turn for the worse the Autobots still had his sparklings. Both of them. They'd be the first to suffer.

"Neither I nor Megatron submit to the whims of Autobots." Starscream mustered his conviction, despite the swirling pit of despair that was his spark. He felt so nauseous with worry he'd already purged his morning fuel.

"It'll be fine, Thunder," Skywarp slapped their trine-mate on the back. "Mission knows how to duck and cover."

Thundercracker scowled, and Starscream realised that his own feelings were being reflected back at him on his trine-mate's face.

He wet his lips, thinking.

"I do have alternative plan." He admitted. "A backup."

It wasn't like he didn't trust Megatron. He did. But he'd be a fool to let this escalate without a failsafe.

"Oh?" Skywarp looked interested. "Does it involve warping into places I shouldn't?"

Thundercracker looked resigned.

"Yes, Skywarp," Starscream cringed, very aware that the lives of his offspring where going to be in the servos of either Megatron or _Skywarp_. "It does."

 

* * *

 

Mission clamped his servo down over Thrax's over excitably squealing mouth and dropped to the decking. The gap between the floor and the engine was small. A full sized mech like Prime would never be able to reach his arm under it, but there was enough room for him and Thrax.

The Autobots were approaching. He could hear their voices echoing through the expanse of the silent engine room, their heavy footfalls clanging like a ominous rhythm.

He laid flat on his front, Thrax tucked into his side, and shimmied under. The engine above him was still warm from where it had been running moments ago when he'd hit the emergency stop. His attempts at finding a way off of the ship were thwarted by the distinct lack of vents big enough for him to crawl through carrying Thrax.

His hesitation had cost him.

"-still be in here, will they?" An unfamiliar voice was speaking. They were just around the corner. "And the sooner the _Ark_ gets moving again the less chance they have of jumping ship. I say re-activate-"

"What if they're hiding in the engine?" Another softer, concerned voice said.

Mission peaked out from below the engine and could see two pairs of pedes. They stopped right in front of his hiding place. Thrax stuck his arm out to try and reach for them. Mission caught him.

"In the engine?" The first voice said incredulously. "Why the Pit would they be hiding in there?"

"I dunno. Tight, warm place to hide?"

"They're sparklings, Hound!" The first voice snapped. "Not cyber-cats."

"Prime said 'search', Cliff-"

"And this'll flush em out!" The second voice then rose in volume to shouting. "Hey Decepti-brats! If you can hear me and you're in there, I'd suggest getting out of those engine parts in three, two -"

Loud clangs and whirrs sounded as the engines restarted. Mission bit back a curse. The metal he was lying against began to warm up again. Thrax whined softly in irritation.

"-hear that?"

Mission glared at Thrax for giving away their position, mouthing 'idiot' at him.

Thrax thought this was hilarious because he squealed with laughter. If the Autobots hadn't known they were here before, they definitely did now.

"-off Cliffjumper!" One of the Autobot began shouting over the drum of the engines. "You're hurting them-!"

Something nonsensical was shouted back, the engines whined as they shut off again. The noise died down, but Thrax was still laughing.

"Shh, Shh!" Mission tried desperately.

"Cliff I found them!"

Dread filled Mission's frame. He twisted against the floor. There in the little gap between his hiding place and the floor were two blue optics, and a reassuring smile.

Mission hissed at him. Thrax continued to laugh.

"Hey guys, it's okay," the green Autobot was cooing, "It's okay, we'll getcha outta there. You hold on- Cliff! I can't reach them-"

There was mumbled cursing in the background. The first Autobot withdrew, and Mission frantically began looking for spaces to crawl into next, someway of getting out from under his hiding place and making a break for it.

A thunk sounded as the second Autobot appeared in the gap, squinting through it at them. This one was red. And a minibot. More than capable of reaching for them.

Mission snarled wordlessly, hoping to scare him off with feral behaviour.

It was undone by Thrax's happy babbling. Mission held him close to his front, trying to catch his waving arms as he went to reach for the Autobot in return.

"Yeah I see them." The red minibot grumbled, "Hang on-"

He shifted, and stuck his arm under the engine. Reaching blindly, he managed to grab Thrax's kicking leg with ease. He pulled. Thrax cried out. Mission stabbed his claws into the senseless Autobot's servo and tried to tear his fragging digits off.

"Araghhh-! Get it off- Hound- Hound!"

The Autobot, and his arm, disappeared, leaving a trail of energon behind on the decking. Mission's claws were soaked in it. Thrax wasn't laughing anymore. Some of the Autobot's energon had gotten onto his leg.

Mission tried to wipe it away for him as he whimpered, upset and confused.

"It's okay. I won't let them take you," he promised, holding him tight. "I won't let them-"

"-feral glitch tiger! Not a sparkling!" The Autobot he'd maimed was shouting. "Shove your blaster under there, show him whose boss-"

"You're missing half your fingers. You need the medbay." The second Autobot was saying, not sounding all too sympathetic. "The others are on their way-"

"Should exterminate them now while we have the chance!" The first Autobot was clearly furious. "Before they grow up and become bigger problems-"

Thrax's whimpering picked up again, and no amount of hushing seemed to soothe him. Mission tried to stem the rapid beat of his spark, worrying that his own fear was what was working his brother up.

Metal on metal sounded and the green mech was back, comforting despite his comrade's state. "Hey, hey, shh, it's alright-"

It was not alright. Nothing about this was alright. Mission tucked his helm behind Thrax's so the Autobot wouldn't see the moisture brewing in his own optics. They'd be surrounded soon. The Autobots would yank them out of here, separate them. They'd take Thrax. And they'd lock him away for the mess he'd made of their ship.

And they'd never see their parents again.

Thrax had graduated to all out wailing now, tears streaking messily down his pudgy face. Knowing that he was the one to have put his brother in such an uncomfortable position added guilt to his mess of emotions, overwhelmingly coupled with his exhaustion.

"Are you stuck?" The Autobot guessed, still talking to them. He was laid flat on the floor beside the gap, but was wise enough not to try sticking any limb under it. "Don't worry. Prime's coming, he'll get you outta there-"

That was the last thing Mission wanted. Optimus Prime would be furious with the state of his flagship. He might not be able to reach under and drag them out, but he carried a battle axe more than capable of slicing through the durasteel of the bulkheads. It'd make short work of the engine.

"I'm not going anywhere." The Autobot said, supposedly trying to reassure them. "I'll stay, it's okay-"

He continued his nonsensical reassurances, and Thrax continued to wail. Mission just offlined his optics and wished his parents would hurry up and rescue them already.

 

* * *

 

Optimus could hear the wailing before he even entered the room. Fear gripped his spark.

Followed by the vast majority of the _Ark's_ crew, he hopped over the safety rail of the stairs leading down to the main engine. The racket was coming from somewhere behind the cooling units. The closer he came, the more distressing the noise.

Zoning in on it, it wasn't long before he came across Hound and Cliffjumper, and a nauseating amount of energon splattered over the decking and mini-bot.

"What on Cybertron-" Ratchet said it for him, knocking Optimus's shoulder as he rushed to Cliffjumper. The mini-bots servo from wrist to fingers was a mess, steadily leaking energon, missing digits. Optimus thought he saw a few on the deck.

Hound was flat on the floor, having looked up at their arrival. "Sir."

"The sparklings?" He asked. The wailing was echoing out from beneath something. He looked at the gap Hound was crouched in front of, his tank plunging with horror.

He dropped to his knees beside him, "Are they alright?"

"Think so, just scared," Hound explained.

"I'm fine by the way!" Cliffjumper complained behind them.

"Woah, 'Jumper," Sideswipe's provocative voice exclaimed behind them, "What'd ya do? Stick your servo in the moving parts?"

"That little brat tried to rip my arm off!" Cliffjumper pointed to the gap incriminatingly. "I was trying to help-"

"Cliffjumper," Optimus reproached, because shouting was hardly going to soothe already undoubtably frightened sparklings. He could hear Thrax sobbing brokenly, but nothing from Mission.

He ducked, peering into the gap, and there, wedged as far it they could have gotten, were two pairs of wide optics. Thrax was squirming as he cried. Wrapped around him, Mission was unmoving.

"Mission?" Optimus dropped his tone into something gentle. "Are you and your brother alright?"

Mission didn't respond. His wings were flat to his back, his arms locked around his younger brother's middle. Whether he was genuinely stuck, or simply too stubborn to move, it was obvious he wasn't going to be coming out on his own volition.

"Your brother is frightened, Mission," he tried anyway. "He doesn't like it under there."

Mission glared silently.

Optimus pushed himself back upright. Hound dropped down to take his place.

"Megatron will be here soon." Ratchet said ominously, yanking Cliffjumper's arm up when he let it drop down from it's elevated position. "Unless you want to tell him we need to delay the exchange because his sparklings are stuck in under the Interceptors engines-"

Optimus waved him off, getting the point.

"Wheeljack," he spotted the engineer easily in the gathered crowd of mechs. "How quickly can you take the engine apart?"

"If you want it done properly..." Wheeljack stroked his chin. "A far few hours. He's right under the reserve fuel cells."

Optimus bit back another curse. "Get to work."

"What about a big stick?" Sideswipe piped up, "We can poke them out?"

He seemed to think this was a genuinely good idea.

"A big stick!" Ratchet shouted, only half paying attention as he clamped Cliffjumper's fuel lines. "Do you ever listen to yourself? We're not jabbing at the sparklings with big sticks-"

"A magnet then?" Sunstreaker suggested, glaring at Ratchet.

"But what if they are stuck?" Hound said from the floor, casting worried glances down the gap. "Using force to get them out will hurt them-"

"And Megatron will kill Jazz and Prowl out of revenge!" Sideswipe gasped.

"No one else is getting injured or killed or otherwise." Optimus told them firmly. "With our engines offline we'll have some hours until Megatron arrives. Wheeljack is going to slowly and carefully remove the engine-"

His comm pinged.

"Now what." He muttered to himself, and answered. "Prime."

" _Prime, it's Red Alert_." A panicked voice came out at him.

"Red, everything is fine. We've found the sparklings-"

"- _And Megatron's found us_!" Red Alert interrupted. " _We're picking up the_ Nemesis _on our scanners. It's battle protocols are engaged!"_

Just when Optimus thought the situation couldn't get anymore stressful.

"No," he growled. "His sparklings are on board. We wouldn't risk them in attacking us-"

 _"I need you on the bridge Prime_." Red Alert continued. " _He's contacting us--"_

The wailing of the trapped sparkling continued. Optimus wanted to ensure for himself that they got out safe, but if he didn't return to the bridge to answer Megatron's hails, he would be putting more than just the sparklings at risk.

"Ironhide, I need you with me. Hound," he turned to the Autobot on the floor. "Look after them."

The fact that he was delegating the sparkling extraction and not overseeing it personally did not seem to reassure his mechs. Ironhide kept pace with him as he hurried his stride to reach the bridge.

"What now?" Ironhide groused.

"Megatron." Optimus growled, "He's early."

Ironhide cursed, and Optimus agreed with the sentiment.

He couldn't even begin to think how he was going to explain this to the Decepticons, but for the sake of Prowl and Jazz, he had to make this good.

 

* * *

 

The comm console continued hailing the _Ark_ as Megatron multitasked shouting orders at the crew and shouting in general _at_ Starscream.

"If you think for one moment, Starscream-- Soundwave, bring the prisoners to the bridge-- _one second_ , Starscream, that I'm just going to let you fly into Prime's clutches--" the comm console timed out. "Call them again!" He snarled at Scrapper.

Starscream was lined up amongst his airforce, all of them armed and ready for battle. He didn't appear to be listening as he checked the charge on Skywarp's weapon.

"Starscream!" He snarled, really starting to lose his temper.

Starscream turned and sneered at him with as much immature derision as Mission was usually capable of mustering. "What, you blithering fool? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Megatron bristled. He pointed, summoning the dangerous tone of voice he planned to use on Prime as soon as he picked up his damn comm. " _You_ are not to take one _step_ off this ship or so help me I'll-"

"Lord Megatron, the _Ark's_ shielding has increased to full and her guns are online."

Megatron pointed at Starscream one last time, before turning and observing the read outs. "Arm the main gun, and be ready to fire warning shots-"

Shockwave got to work on the targeting system. The last thing he wanted was to actually breach the ship his sparklings resided on, but he liked even less the idea of Starscream attempting to infiltrate the Interceptor. Prime didn't need any more leverage than he already had.

"Starscream-" he began, about to ask him to calculate the strength of the _Ark's_  increased shields against their ion cannon, only to find the bridge behind him empty,

"Shockwave!" He snapped, instantly wanting to blame someone, anyone, but himself.

Shockwave looked up from the targeting screen. "Yes sir?"

Megatron opened his arms incredulously. "Where are my seekers?!"

Shockwave glanced at one of the scanners on the consoles. "Ah, they appear to have left the ship, Lord Megatron."

That was the last straw. If Starscream got out of this alive, Megatron was going to kill him.

 

* * *

 

Optimus charged onto the bridge and nearly bowled Red Alert right over.

The lights were flashing, the _Ark's_ own weapons systems online. Shields were up. Guns armed. Any chance of deescalating this into a negotiation was now null and void.

"Red, ya armed the guns?" Ironhide said incredulously.

"I had to!" Red Alert snapped, clearly stressed beyond all reason. "Why are the engines offline? We're like sitting ducks-!"

"Disarm the guns, but keep the shield." Optimus told him, finally reaching the comm console. He switched it on.

And found himself staring at the back of Megatron's helm.

"-ell that seeker if he thinks I'm going to bother rescuing his worthless husk when he gets himself captured by the Autobots he's got another thing coming!"

The helm turned, and Megatron blinked, poleaxed at the sight of him.

Optimus stared back, the Decepticon's words sinking in.

Rescue? Captured by the Autobots? Seeker?

 _Starscream_.

He was infiltrating the Ark.

"Pri-"

Optimus put the comm on hold before Megatron could get any more out.

"Starscream is making a run at our defences," he told Ironhide. "Under no circumstances can we allow those seekers to breach the shield. I need you and Red Alert to do so without causing any serious injuries. Megatron still holds Jazz and Prowl."

Ironhide nodded with understanding. He seized Red Alert by the back of his chassis, ignoring his protests of, "-but my equipment is in _ruins_ -!"

Optimus switched the comm back on. Megatron was glaring at him silently.

"You dare put _me_ on hold." He began.

"Call off your seekers, Megatron." Optimus warned. "This was never supposed to turn into a battle."

"You expect me to believe that?" Megatron snarled. "If that's true, then release the sparklings into Starscream's custody-"

"And my officers?"

Megatron sneered, "Why, I have them right here."

He gestured off screen and there was a clang on metal on metal, a grunt, and then Jazz and Prowl were being shunted into the pickup. They looked in good condition. If they had been injured Megatron had at least bothered to have them repaired.

Servos cuffed in front of him, Jazz still managed a little wave.

"Hey Prime. How's Wriggles?"

"Silence!" Megatron thundered, "The sparklings, Prime. Now."

"Megatron." Optimus breathed, "There has been a slight complication-"

The fear that blossomed across Megatron's face told Optimus more than anything else that despite attempted indifference he certainly did care for those sparklings.

The rest of his sentence was lost when the _Ark_ shook violently. Alarm klaxons sounded. Hull breach alerts popped up. Optimus silenced the ones of the bridge, but it must have been fairly obvious to Megatron that Starscream was already attacking the ship.

"Megatron you must contact Starscream." He implored. "Tell him to stand down before this turns into warfare. I cannot ask my mechs not to defend themselves-"

"You cannot ask Starscream to abandon his young." Megatron snarled back.

"Your sparklings have barricaded themselves under the ships engines!" Optimus snapped. "And attempting to extract them is difficult enough without you _shooting_ at us."

Megatron blinked, surprise over taking his anger. For one brief blissful moment.

Then it was back.

"They're _where?!"_

 

* * *

 

"What good is shielding if it can't stop a teleporter huh?" Skywarp mused, brushing himself off.

Thundercracker lifted his comm and passed on orders to the remaining seekers to return to the _Nemesis_. After providing cover fire for Skywarp's warp jump through the ships shielding their job was done.

"Split up or stick together?" Skywarp asked.

"Stick together." Starscream decided, sneering at the hideous orange interior of the _Ark_ , thinking he could use Skywarp as a living shield should the need arise.

"Where first?" Thundercracker asked.

"The brig." Starscream decided.

"What?" Skywarp arched an optical ridge. "For sparklings-?"

"Autobots don't see them as sparklings." Starscream reminded them darkly.

He moved towards what looked like an elevator, stabbing the button for a lower floor. Instead of heeding his command the panel sparked. Starscream jumped back.

"What the-"

"INTRUDER!" Blared out of unseen speakers. "INTRUDER!"

The ceiling opened up above them.

"Skywarp, teleport!" Thundercracker shouted, a moment too late.

Electrical bars descended from the ceiling in a circle, trapping them. Skywarp tried to activate his warp drive anyway. It made a negative sounding beep.

"Ah, man..."

"And _that_ ," Thundercracker said, checking his chrono. "Is the fastest we have ever been caught."

Starscream kicked at one of the bars and electrocuted himself.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

For the first time in over four million years of war, the _Nemesis_ and _Ark_ deactivated their shielding and flew up alongside one another to dock.

"Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea." Red Alert was one micron of stress away from experiencing a level five meltdown. Optimus settled a reassuring servo on his shoulder. Beside him, Ironhide cocked his blaster.

"Put it away, Ironhide." Optimus told him.

"Ya think the old slagmaker's gonna board without his fusion cannon?" Ironhide snorted. He patted his blaster. "Already been shot once this week thanks. Think I'll keep it wit' me."

Optimus didn't bother arguing.

At the end of the docking bridge the air lock released, and there stood Megatron, flanked by Shockwave and Soundwave, and in their grip stood Jazz and Prowl. Optimus felt relief wash over him as they began to move down the bridge. Megatron did indeed have his fusion cannon, but it was offline.

"Holster it." Optimus told Ironhide.

With a grumble Ironhide did. His friend could think him a fool for being too trusting, but it was less a trust in Megatron himself, and more a surety that he wouldn't risk the safety of his young.

"Megatron." Optimus greeted, voice even but firm.

"Prime." Megatron stopped halfway up the bridge, Jazz and Prowl still captive. "You have Starscream?"

"He and his trine were detained without injury." Optimus reassured. "They're being brought here now."

"Then we will wait." Megatron made no attempt to come any closer with his own prisoners. Jazz flashed Optimus a reassuring smile. Prowl's optics were narrowed like his battle computer as online and calculating odds. Optimus hoped he didn't try anything...

It didn't take long for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to arrive with the seekers. Skywarp and Thundercracker seemed fairly calm despite their capture, walking sensibly either side of Sunstreaker.

Starscream meanwhile wasn't even really walking, but kicking and thrashing and generally just causing as much trouble for a struggling Sideswipe as possible. Optimus watched him rear up and plant both thrusters against the doorway Sideswipe was trying to push him through, bracing.

"What the- _Screamer_ , what the _Pit_!?" Optimus could hear Sideswipe yelling from behind where Starscream was straining against the doorframe, trying to shove him through by force.

Optimus debated going to help- and taking his gaze off Megatron- when his nemesis in question let out a thunderous bellow of, "Starscream!"

Starscream's legs dropped, and Sideswipe stumbled forwards and nearly tripped over himself when the way was abruptly unobstructed. He struggled to keep up when suddenly Starscream was moving with speed towards the docking bridge.

"'Megatron?"

Ironhide threw out an arm before Starscream could launch himself at Megatron, taking Sideswipe with him.

"Stop making such a nuisance of yourself," Megatron growled, glaring heatedly. Optimus wondered if they'd had some sort of disagreement. They weren't looking at each other like two mechs that had creations together.

"What- what are you doing?" Starscream demanded, looking past Megatron where Jazz and Prowl stood. "You blithering idiot. You're not trading them for _me!"_

He sounded utterly furious.

Megatron snorted and reached back to take Prowl. He gave the tactician an unceremonious shove up the bridge, and beckoned Starscream with his servo. "Come."

But Starscream planted his thrusters. "No!" He snarled. "We need the prisoners for the sparklings. We need-"

"Starscream," Optimus interrupted, stepping aside as Prowl made it to them. "Your sparklings are not prisoners. I have invited Megatron to broad the ship so he may retrieve them personally."

Starscream sneered at him, "He's not stupid enough to fall for that."

He looked down the docking bridge where Megatron as rubbing the back of his neck.

" _Megatron_!" He shrieked, apparently realising that he really _was_ 'stupid enough to fall for that.'

"Be quiet, seeker." Megatron reached for Jazz this time, who stumbled away with a "Hey. Hey, don't shove-"

Megatron shoved him regardless.

"Get back on the ship, Starscream." Megatron growled. "I deal with you after-"

That sounded rather ominous. Optimus had known them both long enough to be vastly familiar with their volatile working relationship. After learning of the sparkling's parentage he had assumed they were on more amicable terms now.

Perhaps this was simply the dysfunctional Decepticon version of love?

Something to ponder later. Starscream was still stubbornly refusing to move, even stumbling as Sideswipe tried to shove him much like Megatron had done Prowl and Jazz.

"Starscream-"

"No."

" _Starscream."_

 _"No_."

"We'll be here all cycle 'this rate..." Ironhide grumbled, already getting to work uncuffing Prowl.

"If I may make a suggestion." Optimus interjected, coming to the same conclusion as Ironhide about their stalemate- both Decepticons were as stubborn as each other- a trait they had passed on in spades to their eldest son who was _still_ under the engines.

"Must you?" Megatron sneered.

"Relinquish your fusion cannon, and I will allow _both_ you and your command trine to board. I'm sure the sparklings will appreciate the familiar faces."

Megatron glared.

"Don't just-" Starscream began.

"You have yourself a deal, Prime." Megatron agreed, already unlatching his fusion cannon and allowing it to drop into Shockwave's arms. The sub-commander stumbled under the weigh of it until Soundwave reached to help him. "Uncuff the seekers."

Optimus gestured for Ironhide to obey.

Starscream was looking at his leader like he'd grown a second helm. "Are you-?"

"- _Crazy!?"_ Sunstreaker finished for him, looking between the Decepticon fliers. "That's _six_ Con's on our ship now."

Optimus kept his optics bright and stern as Megatron reached the end of the docking bridge, and stepped over the raised edge onto the _Ark's_ decking. He was much the same as Optimus remembered him. Worn, grey, and angry.

It was good to see some things just didn't change.

"Megatron." He dipped his chin.

"Prime." Megatron didn't.

What was swiftly becoming an intense staring contest ended with an abrupt slap dealt to Megatron's shoulder. Starscream was free, and he wasn't happy.

"You idiot-"

"I know what I'm doing seeker-"

"Now we're all prisoners, we have no leverage-!"

"On the contrary," Optimus interrupted, rather enjoying the novelty of being an afterthought to Megatron's temper for once, "We have no working engines. We couldn't whisk you away from your army if we tried, Starscream."

The seeker cocked a hip, staring at him uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean, no engines?"

 

* * *

 

Megatron had not wanted Starscream to learn of the circumstances for his and Prime's ceasefire and his temporary presence on the Autobot flagship. He was allowed to board, retrieve his sparklings, and leave unhindered; on the condition that he remained aboard the Autobot ship until they had reconstructed their engines.

At which point both functional ships could go their separate ways, free of prisoners.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'UNDER THE ENGINES!'" Starscream roared.

Megatron could count the occasions he had seen fear in Optimus Prime's optics. They were fewer than he would have liked. Those occasions paled in comparison to the look in them now though, as Starscream, two heads shorter and unarmed, squared up to him.

Ironhide's huge frame planted itself in his path, but that didn't seem to deter his mate.

"You-!" Starscream jumped to see Prime over Ironhide's shoulder, "What did you do?! Drop it on them?! You just let defenceless sparklings wander around dangerous mechanical parts!? Do you have any idea-?'"

Ironhide snorted loudly, "Defenceless?"

Dark pride swelled in Megatron's chest. Ah, so Mission had been as well behaved here as he was on the _Nemesis_. Knowing he'd likely caused the Autobots a great deal of trouble was almost worth it-

"-if anything has happened to them, I'll-!"

"You gonna tell your seeker to calm down?" Ironhide gruffly asked him, struggling to defend his Prime.

Megatron shrugged one shoulder, simply glad Starscream wasn't shouting at _him_ , "He's venting."

"Enough of this!" Starscream yelled, pointing. "You're going to take me to my sparklings and _I'm_ going to get them out of there, seeing as it's so beyond you!"

Prime looked mollified enough to agree. Megatron didn't blame him. Starscream was formidable as a warrior. But as a creator, he was terrifying.

"This way..."

 

* * *

 

Thrax had exhausted himself. His wailing had died into sniffles, hiccups, and the occasion broken sob. Mission squeezed him, and hoped he knew how sorry he was for getting them into this. For everything. For being so resentful of him when he'd first arrived, for taking him aboard Lockdown's ship and trying to get rid of him, for trying to escape when they should have just waited for their parents.

He could hear clanking and talking above and all around them. Occasionally the engine above would shift or shudder as they removed parts. Already through the gap he could see the floor beginning to fill with various pieces.

The green mech, Hound, he'd introduced himself, was still talking to them, as promised. Mission hadn't been listening to much beyond Thrax's broken crying and his own self-deprecating thoughts, but the Autobot was telling them some half forgotten fairy tale- about a Vosian Prince and a fearsome dragon, complete with sound effects and cringing character 'voices'.

"-and even though the dragon roared and breathed his fearsome fire, the Prince did not flee, because all seekers were dragons in the beginning, and this..."

Hound's story trailed off just as he was getting to the good part. Mission hadn't even realised he'd been listening. Thrax made a bemoaned noise, like he might start crying again. Hound glanced back at him, then disappeared.

Thrax's vents hitched, and despite his exhaustion, he quickly re-escalated to all out wailing again.

Mission halfsparkedly tried to soothe him, rubbing his thumb over the delicate swell of Thrax's cockpit. The clatter of tools being dropped distracted him. Thrax jumped enough that he fell momentarily silent.

"-idiots-!" Someone was yelling, voice echoing around the engines. "-been under there!? And no one thought to just pull them out?!"

"-feared they were stuck, Starscream." Prime's low voice rumbled next. "We didn't want to hurt-"

Wait. _Starscream?_

Mission's spark stuttered. Thrax cried again.

A hurried clatter, a bang, and a scrape, and the light in the gap was blocked out. Two red optics appeared.

It _was_ Starscream.

Mission thought Thrax had been loud before, but his wailing was nothing, _nothing_ compared to the noise he made when he recognised their creator. Mission's audials almost overloaded. Limbs waved and kicked. Mission struggled to keep hold of him.

"What are you doing in there?" Starscream growled, reaching in. His arm was too large to fit all the way, his claws were just shy of Thrax's kicking legs. "Lying on the filthy floor like that. You know Autobots don't clean, don't you?"

Yes. It was definitely Starscream.

But, here?

"Where-" Mission resent his vocaliser, still unsure, still stunned. "The Autobots?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." His creator snapped, and Mission could tell he was worried. "Out. _Now_."

Thrax rambled nonsensically at their creator, and Starscream's optics softened briefly, his voice dropping into a soft, almost unheard whisper, " _I know, sweetspark, I know. I'm here_ -"

Then snapped back to a furious the next instant, "Mission now!"

A mood swing fast enough to give Mission whiplash.

Before his creator could shout any more, it sounded like there was a brief scuffle above them.

"-doesn't listen to me- !" Starscream hissed to someone unseen. " _You_ tell him-"

Mission found out who when a loud voice boomed from above- "You have five seconds to get your backside out from under there before I come in after you!"

Sire.

Completely forgetting that Megatron was far too big to fit in the gap, Mission started wriggling to freedom. Thrax squeaked through his hiccups, overcome with emotion. Within seconds Starscream's claws found Thrax's grabby little servos.

He was swept out of Mission's arms with a squeal and pulled through the gap.

Cautious, Mission shuffled his way out too, wondering if-

He didn't see much more than everyone's pedes standing around, before someone had hold of his scruff bar- Primus, he hated that thing- and plucked him off the ground. He kicked his legs instinctively as he dangled. The momentum he created span him, and he found himself cringing in front of his sire's furious face.

He could hear Thrax babbling and squealing with their creator behind him, Starscream humming contently. A quick glance confirmed Thundercracker and Skywarp were with him too. All three of them were fawning over his brother, touching him, petting him, rubbing their thumbs over his grubby tear stained face...

Getting all the attention.

Ah, yes, _that's_ why he found him annoying-

He was shook, and his attention snapped back to his sire.

"Sire." He sniffed, hoping there wasn't still moisture on his face from his earlier despair.

"Mission." Megatron spoke through his chest, a deep ominous rumble.

Oh Primus, he was in so much trouble.

He wasn't put down. Megatron span him where he dangled, poking and prodding at him like he was inspecting a new weapon. Mission hissed and kicked out of him, not so scared of retribution as he was annoyed at all the Autobots watching and snickering. This sort of manhandling was completely beneath his dignity.

" _Sire_..." He hissed, when a leg was lifted so the bottom of his thruster could be inspected.

Satisfied, Megatron released his leg and scruff bar to roughly shift him into the crook of his arm instead, keeping him dangling.

"You're in luck, Prime," he growled. "They're uninjured."

"We did our best to care for them." Prime said, but he didn't seem to be paying attention to his arch nemesis. His optics had softened as he watched Starscream with his brother. Thrax was still vocalising a mile a minute, but Starscream had his face hidden against the top of his helm.

Skywarp had him in a one armed hug Mission knew his creator wouldn't usually tolerate. Thundercracker was blocking the Autobots view of his trine leader and letting Thrax yank on his digits.

"You're luckier than you realise."

Mission looked up and was surprised to find Prime right next to his sire. Instinctively he gripped his sire's arm tighter, cautious of Prime.

"I realise it just fine, Prime." Megatron growled.

Prime's blue optics flicked down. And Mission could have sworn he was smiling at him. "That's quite the troublemaker you have there."

"I know." Megatron murmured. But he didn't sound annoyed. He sounded proud. "I trust he destroyed a fair portion of your ship."

Prime's gaze darkened. "I'll send you the bill."

Mission frowned. It was almost like they were joking. Like they knew each other. More than just as enemies.

Prime shifted his attention to some of his Autobots, already starting to direct the repair of the engines. Starscream finally pulled his face out from the back of Thrax's helm to meet his gaze. He came forward.

Some wordless agreement passed between his parents because he was being swapped. Him for Thrax. Megatron took his younger sparkling with an indulgent but quiet noise, repressing a smile when Thrax twisted and starting pulling at his chest plating.

"Creator," Mission bemoaned as he found himself crushed to his creator's chest. "I'm too old to be carried..."

"You let Megatron carry you." Starscream said against his audial. "And if you think I'm stupid enough to put you down so you can run away again-"

"I didn't run away." He muttered against Starscream's shoulder, closing his optics and just breathing his scent in. "I'm sorry..."

"You're going to be." His creator said, somewhat menacingly.

"Are we going home now?"

"Soon." Lips brushed his helm. A servo ran down his back. "Soon."

 

* * *

 

Starscream and Megatron seemed too distracted by the sparklings to enjoy the novelty of the Autobot ship. Skywarp wasn't.

But every attempt at wandering off was blocked by that yellow eye sore, Sunstreaker. "Con."

"Autoboob."

Sunstreaker's gaze darkened.

"Hey glitch face," another, almost identical voice announced behind him. Ah, Sideswipe, twice as ugly, twice as annoying. "Think you can keep your sparklings on your own ship for a while?"

"Oh har har..." Skywarp drawled, "Don't act like you're not jealous."

Sunstreaker fluffed his armour, arms folded. "Jealous of getting drooled on?"

Sideswipe didn't quip back though. He was looking past Skywarp, at Megatron and the sparkling chewing on the edge of the shoulder armour.

"Hey," he said, voice oddly soft, "Think we'll be allowed to say goodbye?"

Skywarp blinked. "To the sparklings?"

"Just the little one..."

Thrax's optics were wide and bright as he took everyone in. Skywarp didn't find it surprising that he'd managed to make a few friends here. He did find it surprising that one of those friends would include notorious jet-judo'er, Sideswipe. In another life, they'd be mortal enemies.

"I mean," Skywarp scratched his helm. "You can ask, I guess."

Sideswipe must have really gotten attached if he was willing to brave Megatron's ire for an opportunity to say goodbye. It was like something out of an alternative universe, watching seeker-hater Sideswipe appeal to Megatron's softer paternal side to get the chance to see Thrax one last time.

A miracle of miracles, Megatron glared, but allowed it. Skywarp could see Prime not far away, watching with a similar look as amazement, as Megatron released his death grip on Thrax just enough for Sideswipe to extend one cautious digit.

Thrax grabbed it and twisted with a victorious shout.

"Bye little buddy," Sideswipe said, letting Thrax bend all the delicate joints in his digit. "I'd say I hope we meet again, but I don't think that'd be a good idea..."

Megatron huffed, as if in agreement. Sideswipe decided he'd pushed Megatron's patience enough, and drew away. Thrax waved.

It was kinda sad, Skywarp thought, as he watched other Autobots, encouraged by Sideswipe's bravery, approach to say goodbye to Thrax. A few of them came close enough to let him grab them, but most kept their distance and waved.

Thrax was a pretty overly friendly sparkling though, Skywarp had no fragging idea where he got it from, because Megatron and Starscream were hardly social butterfly's, even by Decepticon standards.

The engines were almost back together again, the little engineer Autobot working quickly now that he didn't have to worry about squashing sparklings. Prime was cautiously herding them out of the engine room, towards the upper decks.

"I'm glad this is almost over." Thundercracker lent in to murmur, his optics locked with determined protectiveness on Mission, still held captive by Starscream. "It feels like every time Starscream has a sparkling we manage to lose it."

"Hey, we didn't lose them this time," Skywarp muttered as they ascended the stairs out of the engine room. "Remember, it was Lockdown's fault."

Thundercracker snorted.

They stopped at the top of the stairs. Prime's body guard, Ironhide was back, murmuring something up ahead in Prime's audial. Looked like it was time to go.

"That's one Pit of a sparkling ya got there Screamer." Ironhide finished with Prime and nodded to Mission. "More 'n a match for me..."

Starscream looked impossibly smug.

Mission lifted his helm to glare. "That's hardly a compliment."

"I'll see you on the battlefield." Ironhide mock saluted him. "In a few thousand years, anyway..."

"I would crush you." Mission growled.

Ironhide's laugh was core deep. "That mouth's gonna getcha into trouble one'a these days."

"It already does." Starscream groused, nudging Mission under the chin to knock the scowl off his face. "Takes after his sire."

Megatron's optics flashed red, and Skywarp could sense the argument he'd already heard ten thousand times before rearing to the surface. "After me? You're deluded, seeker-"

"There is just one last thing." Prime stopped them before they went any further. "You have another prisoner-"

 _Lockdown_ , Skywarp thought, just as Megatron snarled, "No."

"Is he to be deactivated?" Prime arched a brow.

"What is he worth to you anyway?" Megatron growled. In his arms, Thrax could tell he as angry. He started pulling on his sire's throat cabling. "Deactivation will be a gift compared to what I wish to do to him-"

"All life has worth, regardless of how you measure it." Prime said sternly. "It isn't-"

"He has worth to me."

Skywarp peered around both Prime and Megatron to see Prowl and Jazz. It had been Prowl that had spoken. His expression was pinched, but unreadable. "I am prepared to barter for him."

Megatron didn't look like he was going to agree, until Starscream touched his forearm.

"Let it go."

Megatron stared at him. "...Fine."

Prowl seemed to deflate.

"Take the worthless scrapheap." Megatron continued, tucking Thrax closer, less so to comfort the sparkling and more so comfort himself. "But know that if his path should cross mine again-"

"I understand." Prowl nodded. "You have my gratitude."

Megatron snorted aggressively.

"Well," Jazz sauntered up to Megatron fearlessly, grin blinding as he looked at Thrax. "It's been pretty crazy, but I guess this is goodbye, Wriggles."

Starscream took an aborted step towards Jazz, like he wanted to smack him, stopped by Thundercracker grabbing his wing. Skywarp smiled though. _Wriggles_. He kinda liked it. Suited Thrax.

"Megatron." Prime stepped forward.

Ah, the last goodbye.

Megatron didn't look pleased with Prime's proximity, but Thrax was squealing too much for him to draw away. Prime didn't push trying to touch him, he leant close, murmuring a gentle goodbye.

Thrax reached out, seized Prime's wiper, and _snap_.

Prime blinked. Megatron blinked.

Thrax squealed and waved the stolen wiper around his helm, brandishing it in the air like a weapon, before bringing it down with a loud crack on Megatron's helm.

The next ten minutes leaving the ship were spent trying to get it out of Thrax's servo, until Prime, resigned, just told them to keep it.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be real with you guys, this is pure fluff.

Mission was already falling asleep when they reached the end of the docking bridge. Starscream left him undisturbed, sensing the emotional and physical exhaustion of his adventure. He kept him in his arms as he watched Megatron conduct their disengagement from the _Ark_ and the next jump into the hyperspace.

No one wanted to wait around long enough for the Autobots to get any ideas.

The stars blurred, the hyperdrive hummed, and the _Ark_ disappeared from their view screens as they went streaking though the galaxy once again.

"Any injuries, Commander?"

Starscream glanced away from Mission's sleeping face to find Hook studying them. His optics were fixed on the limp servo Mission had splayed across his turbine. His small, tapered digits were covered in energon.

"An Autobot's, not his." He explained.

Unquestioning, Hook nodded and moved off to bother Megatron instead. He was speaking with Thrax, pointing at the hyperspeed blur and explaining things far beyond the comprehension of a newspark. Starscream felt his spark swell with untold emotion at the sight.

When no one was looking he dipped his chin and pressed his face to Mission's helm, relishing his scent, and the warm, sparkling-smooth armour under his lips.

Arms aching with the strain of holding him he reluctantly lowered Mission into the bridge's captain's seat. He was watching Mission shift sleepily, trying to get comfortable in the oversized chair, when something nudged his leg.

He looked down to find a cat head-butting him.

Ravage's tail swished as he placed an unsure paw on the seat of the chair, claws scratching lightly, asking for permission.

"If you must." Starscream waved him on.

Ravage hopped up and curled around Mission, pillowing him with his back. The stirring stopped, Mission's expression relaxing as Ravage nuzzled his cheek and began to purr.

A servo on Starscream's shoulder drew his attention away from them. Megatron appeared behind him with Thrax; their sparkling's mouth open and drooling as he recharged. Safe and sound.

A big arm drew him in for a brief but meaningful embrace, Megatron's chin atop his helm, Thrax's tiny round thrusters brushing his arm. Everything finally felt right again.

Relief started to settle over him like soothing cascade of coolant, but his spark still twisted and twirled.

Interesting...

* * *

 

"Six weeks." His sire towered over him.

Protesting the sentence would only lengthen it. Mission bit down on his glossa and nodded. "In my quarters?"

A dark smile curled across sire's face. "Where you can plot your next escapades unhindered? I don't think so."

Mission frowned. "Then where-?"

"You are not leaving my side." Megatron pointed. "Perhaps ever again. If _I_ am busy, you will be with your creator. If _he_ is busy, you will be with Thundercracker. And if _he_ is busy-"

"Skywarp?" Mission guessed hopefully,

Megatron laughed, loud and humourlessly. "In your dreams. No. With Soundwave."'

" _Sire_ ," Mission's shoulders slumped. "This isn't _fair_ -"

"Isn't _fair!_?" Aggression finally edged it's way into his sire's tone. "I'd be happy to have a discussion with you about what is _fair_ and what is not! Would you like to know what is _really_ not fair?"

Mission winced, "I-"

"Having to negotiate my offspring out of Autobot servos! That's what's not fair!"

"Sire-"

"I have aged more in the last week, than I have in four million years of war." He continued unhindered. "Your creator has been _physically ill_ with worry. If Lockdown wasn't such an easily traceable idiot, we might never have found you again-"

"I would have-"

"No!" Megatron barked, pointing, "I will hear no more excuses from you. If I composed a list of your reckless actions from just this last week alone, I would run out of memory space before I completed it by half! I _trusted_ you-"

Mission felt a stab of guilt. "Sire-"

"I trusted you to watch your brother." Megatron tone dropped from angry to disappointed and that was worse somehow. "To keep him safe. And you put him in danger. You put _yourself_ in danger."

"I'm sorry." Mission told the floor.

A knee appeared in front of him as his sire knelt. A finger nudged his chin up, forcing him to meet dim red optics.

"You are indispensable." Megatron rumbled. "I cannot lose you. I will not."

Mission sniffed.

A thumb brushed over his cheek. He blushed furiously when he realised tears had escaped, pulling himself from his sire's grasp to scrub at his face.

"And your brother is not your replacement." Megatron continued, looking exasperated. "He's your _brother_. Honestly, I don't know where you get these ideas from sometimes..."

Mission nodded again. Thrax was just so happy and carefree, everyone was always buzzing around him, cooing over him. All he had had when he was small(er) was a spark-broken creator and nowhere to call home.

Mission didn't do hugs. Neither did Megatron. But he let himself be drawn close enough that sire could drop his helm to his for a brief meaningful moment.

"And well done for destroying Prime's ship."

Mission blinked back the tears and mirrored his sire's smirk.

"Well, Thrax helped."

"I'm sure he did."

 

* * *

 

Starscream shoved Thrax's wriggling frame under his olfactory and sniffed him again.

"You still smell like Autobot." he grumbled, and dunked the squirming sparkling back into the basin. Thrax yelled a protest, kicking and splashing, but Starscream was more than adept at avoiding the solvent.

"Are you drowning him?"

Starscream glanced back and saw Megatron in the doorway. Thrax made a happy noise at the sight of his sire, splashing subsiding.

"He reeks of filthy Autobots." Starscream grimaced. "Like one of their degenerate ground pounders..."

Megatron nodded, wandering in. Starscream wondered if he was coming to help. Uncharacteristic for him. It usually took two arguments and a screaming match to get him to help with any of Thrax's basic maintenance. Starscream suspected it was because he feared doing it wrong and looking a fool rather than a reluctance to pull his weight.

"Where's Mission?" He asked, not missing his eldest's absence.

"With Thundercracker." Megatron murmured, stopping beside the shelve and lifting the snapped windshield wiper Thrax had managed to rip off Prime. He balanced it on his index finger like a warrior checking the balance of a sword.

Thrax squealed and made grabby hands.

"Don't give it back to him." Starscream warned, familiar with the indulgent expression on Megatron's face. "Took me half an hour to get it off him..."

"I was thinking of keeping it." Megatron mused, turning it over in his servos. "As a memento."

Starscream pulled a face. "Of what? The worst week of our lives?"

"Thrax's first maiming." Megatron declared, holding it up. "Of a Prime, no less."

Starscream rolled his optics and began the careful process of wiping Thrax's grubby face. A task made ever more difficult by his sparkling's desire to eat the wash cloth.

"We should have named you Annihilator." He murmured, tugging the cloth out Thrax's mouth. He heard the fabric rip, and sighed in exasperation. "This is a result of _your_ coding."

Megatron snorted, laying down the dismembered wiper and stooping to lift Thrax out of the basin. He didn't seem to mind the sparkling's soaking state, nor the solvent he was spilling across the floor as he brought him to his chest. Thrax smeared dampness over his armour. Starscream sighed again, despairing of the water marks it was going to leave everywhere.

"He may have my strength, but it's your penchant for destruction that's making him abuse it," Megatron murmured, bringing Thrax close enough that the sparkling could reach his face and babble at him.

The softness in his expression made something flutter in Starscream's chest. He brought a servo to his spark. It fluttered again.

"Are you alright?" Megatron noticed the look on his face, ignoring how Thrax was yanking on his audial.

"Fine." Starscream waved him off quickly, then pointed. "Stop fawning over him. You'll make him soft."

"I'm sure." Megatron shifted Thrax into one arm and let him dangle precariously. Starscream had seen him mishandle both their sparklings so often now that he didn't even both to correct him. Thrax didn't seem to mind anyway.

"There's more than a weeks worth of work I'm behind on," Megatron continued, casually hitching Thrax up when the wet sparkling almost slipped out of his grasp. "I'll be on the bridge with Soundwave. If Thundercracker tires of Mission's attitude send him to me."

Starscream cocked his hip, "Because I can't be trusted not to lose him again?"

Megatron shifted into his personal space, "Because I planned on giving you a break."

"I've been apart from them for a week." Starscream arched an optical ridge. "The last thing I want is time away from them."

Megatron's gaze was still soft when he looked down at him. He reached up and brushed his cheek in a gesture too gentle for a gruff mech like him. "You look exhausted..."

He _was_ exhausted, and now that the excitement of the week had died down, he suspected he knew why.

He leant into Megatron's caress regardless, but didn't get to enjoy it long. The tender moment broke with Thrax using his close proximity to Starscream to lean over and make a grab for his turbines. Digits shoved between the fan blades and tugged.

Starscream hissed, but Megatron already had Thrax's wrist and was negotiating him free.

"For sparks sake, brat." Megatron rumbled with soft irritation. Thrax only laughed.

Wary of digits trying to pull him apart, Starscream leant in for a quick kiss. It wiped the irritation off Megatron's face in a flash, but also led to his mate's free servo darting out and yanking him in for a deeper, longer kiss.

Starscream could have let himself get carried away, his spark bright enough to burst -were it not for the squirming ball of armour squashed between them, making a lot of noise at the indignity of being sandwiched.

He backed away reluctantly, Megatron bouncing Thrax lightly in apology as the sparkling continued to shout protests at them.

"If only there weren't sparklings everywhere I turned..." Megatron murmured, seductively promising.

"There are only two." Starscream pointed out, feeling a twinge of worry.

"Two is enough." Megatron huffed and started poking Thrax in the cockpit to stop him grumbling.

Starscream just hummed and watched them leave.

 

* * *

 

"If you're going to use this as an opportunity to lecture me like everyone else has, don't bother." Mission grumbled, glaring out at the stars. "I've already heard it."

Thundercracker wasn't actually planning on a lecture. There were a fair few things he wanted to say to the little delinquent, but he figured Mission had suffered enough. He knew how long Megatron could rant for.

"No, I thought you could do with a little quiet actually." Which was why he'd brought the youngling up to the observation deck. It was their spot. A place for Mission to avoid the bustle of the ship and Megatron's overbearing authority and just vent about his adolescent troubles.

Aside from Skywarp, Mission didn't really have anyone to talk to. Which was probably why he was always getting himself into these situations.

"I wasn't going to abandon him, you know." Mission mumbled.

Thundercracker kept his optics on the stars, humming in interest, but not so much that he dissuaded Mission from sharing his feelings.

"I wanted to, but I changed my mind." He let his helm clink against one of the support bars, looking melancholy.

"What I wouldn't give to shove Starscream into an airlock and just jettison him out to space." Thundercracker nodded. "Believe me, I know what it feels like."

"It's not the same." Mission grumbled.

"No." Thundercracker agreed with a smile. "It's _worse_. He holds rank over me. Thrax can't even talk back yet. You think he's annoying now? Just you wait till he starts arguing with you."

Mission squinted up at him, "I thought you cared about him?"

"I care about both of you. Like Skywarp does. Like your parents do." Thundercracker cast him a condescending look. "Just because you get annoyed with who you love doesn't mean you stop loving them. You annoy me and I still care about you."

"Even though I was captured by the Autobots and had to be rescued?"

"There's not an idiot on this ship that hasn't been rescued from the Autobots." Thundercracker smirked. "It's a rite of passage."

Mission frowned in disbelief, "Even my creator? Sire?"

" _Especially_ them." Thundercracker let himself lean against the support beam beside Mission. "More than once..."

It seemed to make Mission feel better. His wings didn't hang quite so low. Thundercracker turned his attention back to the stars.

"I'm sorry, I guess."

Thundercracker glanced down at him, only just refraining from acting amazed that he'd actually apologised. He nodded easily, like it wasn't a big deal and he and everyone else hadn't been driven out of their minds with stress throughout the hellish debacle. He inhaled deeply.

"I'm just glad you're back." He replied, deciding not to add anything too sappy in case Mission ran away, as Starscream was wont to do when Skywarp got clingy. "Do me a favour though?"

Mission blinked up at him, Starscream's optics, Megatron's features. "Yeah?"

"No more stunts for at least a year? It's going to take Megatron that long to get his oil pressure back to normal anyway."

Mission repressed a smile, looking away, "I'll try."

Thundercracker brushed his shoulder, smiling, even though he knew he'd brought them a month of peace at the most.

 

* * *

 

Megatron reclined across the welcoming softness of his berth with a groan at the creak the movement caused. He couldn't tell if it came from the berth or his own abused frame.

Resting against his chest, Thrax shifted in his recharge. His cockpit rose and fell under Megatron's huge servo. His sparkling soft features content. Safe.

His let his own optics drift offline.

Someone touched his servo.

Frayed battle protocols shot online as he woke and grabbed the offending wrist of whatever evil creature was trying to separate him from his sparkling. Starscream glared down at him.

"You'll roll over and crush him." Starscream accused, shaking him off and once again trying to peel back his digits to free Thrax.

"I won't." Megatron argued, not wanting to let go. Some subconscious line of code was fighting every iota of common sense he possessed. He _knew_ Thrax was safe. He _knew_ he wasn't going anywhere. But the idea of him being as far as the crib at the end of his berth was unbearable.

"Your sire protocols have glitched with stress," Starscream grumbled, not finding Megatron's insane level of protectiveness too out of the ordinary. "He needs to recharge on his own or he's going to end up like a parasite on you."

That Megatron didn't immediately see the downside to having a sparkling on his person at all times was what did it. He overrode the protocols. Even though it felt like it would physically hurt to let Starscream scoop Thrax up and take him away, he let it happen.

"See," Starscream said, lowering their sparkling into the crib. "That wasn't so bad."

Megatron huffed noncommittally.

"These sparklings are making you soft, you know." Starscream said, returning to his side. The berth dipped lightly under his weight. He took Megatron's servo, laced their digits, worried his claws against the back of Megatron's servo.

He was clearly anxious. Megatron didn't comment on it. It was a minor miracle he hadn't had a complete breakdown over the course of the last week.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this..." Starscream muttered.

Megatron looked up, immediately annoyed. "What have you done now?"

"It's not my fault." Starscream hissed, but didn't explain. "If anything, it's yours."

Megatron rolled his optics. Starscream just loved blaming him for his own failings.

"Oh really." He snorted.

Starscream lifted their joined -tightly clenched in anger- servos and brought them to his chest. "Yes. It is."

"What then?"

Starscream stared at him, arching a brow, but said nothing. He unlaced their servos and pressed just Megatron's to his chest, palm flat against the warm plating.

"What?!" Megatron snapped with more irritation.

"Oh for-" Starscream dropped his servo and shoved his shoulder. "I'm sparked!"

Megatron rubbed his shoulder, scowling, "You're-"

His optics brightened, dangerously close to blowing out. "You're _what?!"_

"Sparked, idiot!" Starscream growled, arms folded over his chest defensively now. "And I'm telling you now so you can't blow up about it later saying I kept it from you just because you were too oblivious when I was carrying Thrax-"

Sparked. Starscream was sparked. With a sparkling. A new-spark. Another.

"This-" Megatron couldn't get his processor around the idea enough to know _how_ he felt. "But you just had a sparkling?!"

"I know!" Starscream snarled, and for no reason smacked his shoulder again. And again. "You. And your _stupid_ -!"

Megatron caught his fist before he could inflict any further damage. "You're sparked..."

"Are you stuck in a repetitive loop, genius?" Starscream snapped. "For the last time, ye-"

Megatron yanked him into an embrace before he could finish. Servos shoved his shoulders and he could hear Starscream's muffled irritation against his armour. Starscream was determined to ruin the moment. But he wasn't going to let him.

"-off me, you great idiot!" Starscream was still protesting when Megatron drew back from the embrace. Ignoring them, he yanked Starscream forwards again and kissed him. "Hmmph!"

Megatron ducked down and kissed his chest next, in awe with the strength and beauty of the frame that had carried two of his young, and would now carry a third.

"Thank you," He murmured to the warm armour, pressing his forehelm against it. "For telling me."

"I wish I hadn't."

"Why?" Megatron drew his face away from Starscream's to look up at his mate's unbelievably handsome face -all the better for the years of war, and conflict, and parenthood. Megatron had enough self restraint not to just come out and tell him though. Just about.

"This is why." Starscream sneered, oblivious to how enamoured he was. "You're looking at me like I've just emerged from the all-spark, bathed in ethereal light-"

"Haven't you?"

Okay, so he didn't have that much self restraint.

Starscream pressed his palm to Megatron's face and pushed him away, "Enough now..."

Megatron winced, but the push hadn't deterred him much. "You realise you're off active duty again, don't you?"

"What?!" Starscream optics widened in horror, like he couldn't believe this was happening to him. " _Why?!_ "

"I can't have you flying around endangering it." Megatron said incredulously.

"Nothing ever happened to Thrax."

"I didn't _know_ about Thrax." Megatron felt angry again; maybe at the reminder. "And if I _had_ , seeker-"

"Ever wonder why I didn't tell you?!"

Megatron pinched the bridge of his olfactory, "And to think, just moments ago I was happy-"

"You started it." Starscream said petulantly.

"How is this-" Megatron clasped his servos together, pausing to think. He wasn't happy with the idea of a compromise, but after a moment he came back with, "I allow you to participate in non-combative missions with your trine-"

"Deal."

Megatron held up a servo, "-for the _time being_. You're not going to be off ship on a recon when that sparkling finally decides to pop out of you."

Starscream scowled, "That's something we can revisit."

"Indeed," Megatron grumbled, "And I allow this, on two conditions."

"What are they?"

Megatron's smile twisted at the corner, "You have to be the one to explain to Mission that he's going to have another sibling."

That, Starscream must have realised, would not go down well. But he was a warrior, and he'd won harder battles.

"Alright. And what's the second?"

Megatron's clasped a servo to his knee and moved it up his thigh, "I would have thought that was obvious..."

* * *

 

It was weird having Soundwave in his room at first, watching over his brother and him like a silent guardian, but his presence soon went unnoticed. Unlike Thundercracker, and sometimes Skywarp when he was brought along, Soundwave didn't feel the need to encroach on his personal time. Having a guardsmech was bad enough, but having to suffer their attempts at 'playing' with Thrax made it all the worse.

Soundwave was still useful though. He made an excellent live model.

Mission was just finishing the shading on Soundwave's chest when he glanced at his brother on the floor beside him, absorbed with his own drawing. "How's it coming along?"

Thrax blew air at him wetly, chubby servo curled around his blue light-pen as he stabbed at the drawing pad, leaving dots and splodges all over the outline Mission had drawn for him to colour in.

Poor Picture-Soundwave had been scribbled over in just about every colour, most of his lines hidden beneath haphazard layers of ink. Thrax seemed proud of it, he kept looking across at his brother to try and copy his own hand movements, before lifting it to show him.

"It's a vast improvement." Mission reassured him, thinking back to a previous attempt at helping Thrax draw Starscream, when his brother had somehow peeled the drawing pad apart.

Thrax made a happy noise and dropped it down again, scribbling so harshly the light-pen's nib was crushed, destroyed forever.

They were just finishing when Starscream arrived. Thrax squealed and picked up his drawing again, waving it at him.

Starscream smiled indulgently, "You're dismissed." He told Soundwave, waiting until the lieutenant had left before dropping to his knees between them, gasping in dramatically exaggerated amazement at Thrax's drawing.

"Isn't that _something_."   
  
It certainly was.

Thrax was delighted, blabbing as he pointed at all the light-pens he used- and destroyed- in the process. Starscream listened indulgently for a while, offering the occasional enthusiastic complement, humouring him until he became re-immersed in destroying the drawing even more.

Then their creator turned to Mission.

"You're good with him." He said, sounding proud. 

Mission didn't feel like he was, but he shrugged anyway.

"Which is why..." Starscream continued in a weird tone of voice. An unsure one. Mission lowered his light-pen with a suspicious squint, "Which is why I have some good news."

"I'm not being punished anymore?"

Starscream scoffed. "Primus no. You're lucky you didn't get a lifetime sentence. No this is... I am-"

His creator struggled, then looked between him and the scribbling Thrax, and his optics softened.

"I'm going to have another sparkling."

Another-?

_**Good** news?!_

"No." Mission dropped his light-pen. "You can't!"

"Too late." His creator shrugged. "Look, I know you might find this difficult, given what happened last time-"

Now Mission had a great big heaping of guilt to add to the shock and worry and everything else. Thrax already sucked up more than his fair share. There was going to nothing left for him if there was another. 

"This sucks," he said miserably.

A servo cupped his face and turned him to face his creator. Starscream's gaze was intense, but it's usual edge was gone, like he had finally been drained of lingering anger. His palm was warm. Mission leaned into his touch.

"My affection isn't conditional, you know?" His creator said. "I will never care for you any less than I do. No matter how many siblings you have, or badly you behave. And neither will Megatron..."

Unsure, Mission wanted to look away but Starscream held him in place. "Pay attention. I'm not saying this more than once."

Mission huffed and looked up once more, surprised to see the conflict flitting across his creator's face.

"It was... unfair of me to have separated you. From your sire. I know that now." It was Starscream who looked away this time, optics darting to the floor shamefully. "I'm sorry for that. When you're older, it will be easier for me to explain. Just... trust me."

Mission swallowed thickly. "I've always trusted you."

Starscream's servo swept down his helm and brushed his cheek.

"I know," he smiled, gaze lingering, before he drew away and straightened once again. "And here your sire thought you were going to throw a tantrum about this."

"I'm not a sparkling." Mission grumbled, pulling his drawing out of Thrax's grabby servos as his brother began searching the floor for something else to draw on.

"Tell that to Megatron." His creator snorted, leaning forward to pick Thrax up before he could start scribbling over the floor instead. It earned kicks and shouts, Thrax going purple in the face as he tried to keep the light-pen Starscream was working out of his grasp.

"This is the last one though, right?" Mission asked, just to be sure his parents didn't get any idea about making a whole new trine.

Having won the light-pen, Starscream shifted so his legs were folded beneath him and sat Thrax in his lap, his digits brushing over the brightening smear of blue forming on Thrax's pede.

"Primus, I hope so."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy [this](https://twitter.com/elefluff/status/1060319279684427777?s=21) most perfect art of the sparklings and Starscream from @elefluff on twitter!!


End file.
